


The First of Us

by chasind



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Infection, M/M, Slow Burn, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-23 02:44:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 66,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasind/pseuds/chasind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective John Blake thought that the League occupying Gotham was the worst thing that could happen to the city. Unfortunately, he was wrong. </p><p>Now, he must work with Bane to survive the apocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Ambush

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was largely inspired by the videogame, The Last of Us. I finished it in less than five days, so naturally it stuck in my mind afterwards. Then I watched the Dark Knight Rises and I thought to myself, 'Huh. Isn't the state of the city... convenient for a zombie apocalypse, being isolated and all' and being the huge Blake/Bane shipper that I am, I couldn't help myself.

Detective John Blake thought that The League of Shadows occupying Gotham was the probably the worst thing that could happen to the city. After all, it was kind of difficult to top all the shit The League did to the once prestigious metropolis. Trapping around ninety percent of the police force in the subways; destroying all but one of the bridges leading to the mainland; having the threat of a nuclear bomb go off at any fucking second; and the Batman pulling a disappearing act on them were just some of the things he came up with from the top of his head. 

 

So in a nutshell, if you told the young detective that nothing worse could possibly happen, he would simply have laughed and told you to fucking go to hell.

 

Unfortunately for John, he was wrong.

 

Dreadfully wrong.

 

He certainly wasn’t laughing - well, for now at least because he was too preoccupied with running for his life.

 

John’s breath quickened with alarm as he unexpectedly lost his footing. His arms outstretched in surprise as he went face down on the snow, sending the supplies he was carrying flying outward in front of him.

 

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself as he wiped snow off his face and frantically tried to snatch whatever things he dropped. He let out a few more expletives over this precarious little accident. The rational part of him told him to leave what fell and get the fuck out of the area. His rucksack was filled to the brim anyway. Surely he could afford to lose a few supplies. His consciousness, however was telling him that the supplies in his rucksack wasn’t enough to last the kids for the next two months or so.

 

Gunshots suddenly rang behind him, interrupting John’s personal, internal debate. The intensity of those shots signaled John that they were getting close.

 

_Closer to me._

 

“Goddamit!” John snarled as he stood back up and ran, leaving the supplies he accidentally dropped behind in the process. They wouldn’t matter if he was dead anyway. Still, the canned goods he left in the snow left a bitter taste in his mouth.  

 

_Note to self: get a bigger backpack._

 

A woman’s shrill scream pierced through the winter air, making the hair at the back of John’s neck stand in terror. A feat, considering the fact that John was already wearing long-sleeved thermal gear and a khaki jacket. It would take a whole bunch of shit to have his hair stand out like that.

 

 _Oh god. They’ve gotten Kara_ , John thought with horror as he instantly recognized whose voice that particular scream belonged to. He didn’t dare look back to see what Kara’s fate would be. He could already tell from her screams of help, which were slowly dying down with each second passing by. She’ll be dead in a few minutes.  _Shit! How the fuck did this happen?_  John thought bitterly as he heard another set of screams, this time from a man.

 

_There weren’t supposed to be any fucking infected here!_

 

When his team did reconnaissance a few days before, the area was deemed safe with no signs of renegade scavengers or infected prowling around. In fact, they were all so sure that it was going to be a walk in the park. Most of them didn’t bring any weapons, instead the majority decided to bring empty bags to store supplies in.

 

 _Those people are probably dead by now._  John morosely thought. He couldn’t help feeling guilty that he wasn’t able to help anyone in his current state. How could he when his mind was still hung-up on how it all started?

 

He distinctly remembered Amy shrieking from inside one of the abandoned buildings. When they investigated, they found her inside a run down café - lying down on the floor as a man with a green beanie chewed on her neck, blood oozing out onto the checkered tiled floor. John couldn’t get Amy’s helpless and hopeless stare from his head while the infected man was ravaging her.

 

She was one of those who didn’t bring a weapon.

 

Before the group could even process that Amy was being attacked, the infected man’s eyes darted up and saw their little group, standing shocked just outside the café entrance. Upon noticing them, he stood up and howled, brining everyone back to reality. Soon after that, all hell broke lose as the infected suddenly started pouring out from every direction.

 

Amy was dead at that point.

 

Everyone then ran. Everyone  _fucking_  ran.

 

John’s eyes fought back tears as he heard cries for help behind him. He didn’t look back – or rather couldn’t, because in all honesty, he really wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing. One, his hands were full of canned goods. Two, his gun was still holstered at his hip. And three, none of them still knew how to deal with the infected.

 

All his life in the police force John was trained to deal with criminals with an armed weapon. That’s not saying he’s useless without one. Sure, he was also taught on how to improvise and shit if he was ever caught in a situation unarmed. He was also taught on what type of sick fuckers he would most likely deal with in the field. On how these fuckers would act and respond, what their psychological profile would be most like, and what appropriate course of action he should take under a given circumstance. However, the force never had a course on dealing with psychopathic zombie like creatures straight from 28 Days Later.

 

And that’s when he fell down on the snow, losing some supplies at that point.

 

Now, he  _needed_  to get the fuck outta there.

 

As John turned a corner, a lone infected woman sprinted towards him from the public toilets across the street. John never slowed down his running as he upholstered his pistol and shot the fucker straight on the forehead when it got too close.

 

“Holy shit!” John whispered as specks of the infected’s blood hit him across his face. His running pace slowed down by a fraction as he hastily rubbed the blood off his face, afraid that it may somehow contaminate him or something. While doing so, John caught the sight of a building from the corner of his eye. In just a few short seconds, 5.67 to be exact, the detective deduced that the abandoned building would serve as a good temporary hiding place.

 

John threw caution into the wind as he sprinted towards it. He noted that it was some sort of small printing office when he got closer. As soon as he stepped inside the foyer, he immediately turned around and grasped the intricate, wooden door. He looked outside, scouting if he could direct anyone to his position as a temporary safe house. The sight that greeted him nearly made him vomit.

 

Far from his position, he saw people lying on the ground being torn into little pieces. All of them were too far for him to recognize who exactly was down on the ground, but judging from the sheer amount of bodies, John thought everyone he patrolled with were all gone. That was until a man with an orange scarf burst out from a nearby building.

 

The man had his back turned to John as he was fired into the small doorway with his machine gun - no doubt getting the infected off his tail long enough for him to escape. John felt a small amount of relief to know that someone other than himself survived. Now all he had to do was get that man to where he was hiding.

 

“Trevor! Over here!” John shouted at the man as he waved from behind the doorway. The man stopped unloading bullets long enough to glance behind his shoulder to see just who was calling him. When his eyes locked onto John, he nodded before turning his attention back at the doorway he just exited from. He continued shooting into the doorway, a couple of the infected falling dead onto the door threshold. When the coast was somehow clear the man turned around and hurried towards John. The detective waved his hands frantically, motioning the other man to hurry the fuck up. He was worried that the infected might notice them and follow suit.

 

As soon as the man stepped inside John’s hiding place the detective immediately slammed the door shut. The man helped out by barring the entrance door with a wooden bookshelf that was lying nearby on the floor. Both men positioned it strategically so that the door wouldn’t be able to open from the outside. Once in place, John let a huge sigh of relief for this small respite from the attack.

 

“Fuck!” the other man snarled as he collapsed against the wall farthest away from the door. Only when John followed the man’s movement was he able to fully take in his surroundings.

 

John couldn’t help but notice the large, bright yellow sign hanging just below the mezzanine balcony. He couldn’t fully read it since there were a lot of letters missing but he was pretty sure it read, “Gotham Sunshine Press” - or something like that. He snorted at the irony of “sunshine” in a place like this - a place that almost killed him. He noticed that most of the equipment in the lobby was cleared out, leaving only a few desks and chairs hanging around, mold forming wherever it could. It was a sign that this place had long been abandoned.

 

While he was surveying the room, he caught the other man staring back at him, eyes filled with fright and insecurity. John saw that Trevor had a few cuts on his chocolate skinned face - cuts that had blood streaming out.

 

John couldn’t help but narrow his eyes as his hands went to his gun. He prayed his fears weren’t true, but nevertheless, it never hurts to be prepared. Given the shit storm that just happened, his train of thought certainly wasn’t an impossibility.

 

“Trevor…” he said, voice wavering in fear and doubt.

 

Trevor didn’t miss a beat as he stared at Arthur’s hand on his gun before snapping his eyes back at Arthur’s own. “I ain’t bit Blake,” he spat.

 

John stared back at Trevor’s brown eyes, searching if there was even a sliver of doubt in there. When all that greeted him back was a steely glare, he relented and let his hands fall down at his sides. He believed the other man.

 

“Sorry,” he said, looking away in embarrassment as he slowly holstered his gun. He didn’t like the fact that he was ready to shoot his friend if he had indeed been bit.

 

There was no known report on the source of the virus. Nor was there any detailed study on how people could get infected. What everyone just knew was that if you were bit by one of the infected, you’d succumb to the infection in a couple of days; hours if your metabolism was weaker. The unlucky or lucky ones, John wasn’t really particularly sure, would end up dead, being eaten alive or torn apart by _them_.

 

A small chuckle brought John out of his small stupor. The detective locked eyes at Trevor who stood up, laughing. John was confused how the African-American man could be laughing at a time like this, especially when their unit was mostly wiped out.

 

“Don’t take it too hard Blake,” Trevor said as he clasped John’s shoulder when he approached him. “I would have done the same thing if I were in your position,” he said before proceeding upfront to one of the windows.

 

John didn’t know whether he should be relieved or not by that confession.

 

Trevor passed John and stopped at one of the windows to peek out from underneath one of the wooden planks boarded against the window. John lucked out that this printing office had all the windows reinforced with something other than glass.

 

“Any survivors?” he asked grimly as he stood up next to Trevor before handing him some Band-Aids (something that John carries everywhere). The other man blinked at the small pieces of bandage before taking them. John watched Trevor patch up the cuts on his face before looking back at him with a frown. John was sure that frown answered his earlier question with utmost certainty.  

 

“Take a look,” Trevor told John as he stepped aside so John could peek.  

 

Honestly, he wished he hadn’t.

 

All John saw were infected running around the area looking absolutely deranged. From one corner, he could see a few of them dragging a body up the steps to a small apartment building.  _No doubt to finish devouring what they started_ , John thought, his stomach doing somersaults at the sight of white snow soaked with blood.

 

 _Too much blood_.

 

“Fucking runners got everyone,” Trevor swore beside him. John looked away from the window and back at the other man.

 

Runners. It’s what everyone calls the infected these days. It wasn’t necessarily correct to call them zombies since well, they don’t technically look the part. The infected still looked… human if you will. The only differences are their eyes were bloodshot and had some sort of slime dripping down from their mouths. In a sense they’d be more attributed to humans with rabies. Humans with rabies that took several bullets to kill.

 

John remembered the first time he heard the word, runner. A news reporter termed them as “runners” for their ability to sprint after their prey without losing any stamina whatsoever. He also recalled that the said reporter died a few minutes later when their news van got attacked.

 

 “As soon as they got Amy, they pretty much fucking took down Vincent, Kara, Marvin, Jet, Paul, and Willy,” Trevor continued, snapping John back to the present. The black man looked at John sadly, “When all of them went down, some runners turned their attention to me. Had to blast some of them repeatedly before you called me over.”

 

“They took down Willy? He had shotgun for crying out loud!” John said in exasperation as he ran his fingers through his hair.

 

“Yeah, dumb fucker thought he could blast all of them. Turns out, even a shotgun wouldn’t help you against a pack of them.”

 

John felt his legs giving away from the news. If Willy and his shotgun didn’t make it, then both he and Trevor were in deeper shit than he initially thought. 

 

“Fuck!” John swore as he stomped deeper into the room and kicked a nearby chair off its feet before slumping down onto the floor in defeat.

 

 “I know,” Trevor agreed, gripping his gun tighter, as he gave John a sympathetic look.

 

“This area was supposed to be free from any infected. We fucking did a sweep of the area and it was clean!” John said angrily, looking up at Trevor.

 

“I know Blake. I know.” Trevor said prickly, as he looked up at the window to spy what was happening outside.

 

John looked behind his shoulder to study Trevor. He sighed, feeling guilty over his misdirected anger. He knew better than pick a fight with the other man. After all, they only had each other now. Besides, it wasn’t like it was Trevor’s fault that they were ambushed.

 

 _I’m such an asshole._  John realized with a sigh as he turned his body around to face Trevor. He knew he should apologize, but his pride and exhaustion was preventing him from doing so. Instead, he decided to indulge the other man with small talk.

 

“Did you manage to get anything from that Chinese store you were raiding?” John asked as he brushed off snow that was stuck on his khaki jacket.

 

Trevor turned and looked at him with a small smile. John took that as a sign that the man accepted his silent apology. Trevor bent down, placed his gun on the side, and unloaded his backpack in front of John.

 

“Let’s see... I’ve got two small sacks of rice, some instant noodles, and some weird beef or pork thingy,” Trevor detailed as he dubiously looked at a fairly sized pack of meat that had Chinese characters written all over it. “That’s all I managed before shit hit the fan. Not a lot, but hey, I’m sure Anita will be more than happy with it,” he added before stuffing everything back into his black backpack.

 

“How about you?” he asked, eyeing the detective’s own rucksack with curiosity.

 

John obliged by doing the same. “Managed to snag mostly rice as well. I have a few canned goods in here, but lost most of the tasty ones when I tripped in the snow earlier,” John grumbled, still not over that small incident. “Not sure if this will last a month with the kids,” he continued.

 

“Hey, you got some Skittles in there though,” Trevor said as he pointed with his fleece-gloved hand to three packs of red Skittles on the side. “Sure the kids will love that,” he added with a smile.

 

“Oh they better! Considering we almost died today,” John said with a nervous laugh before stuffing everything back in his rucksack and slinging it back over his shoulders. He stood up, a mention of his kids triggering a fire within him. He needed to focus now. If he wanted to get back to the kids, both he and Trevor need to find a way to get out of this area without, as much as possible, running into any runners out there.

 

“Do you think there’s a way in the back that we can sneak in to?” John asked as he peered from the corner of the hallway before turning his attention back at Trevor.

 

Trevor shrugged in reply as he stood up. “Amy and Paul had the map of the area. Didn’t really get a chance to study it since I assumed we weren’t going to run into any trouble out here,” he replied as he fixed his orange scarf that was being squished by his backpack.

 

John slowly stepped into the dimly lit hallway and surveyed the surroundings, all the while debating what the best course of action both of them should take.

 

“Thoughts Blake?” Trevor asked with a raised eyebrow when he noticed that John just couldn’t sit still.

 

“Well, it’s gotten me thinking…” John said as he placed his hand under his chin in deep thought.

 

“Uh huh?”

 

“If the runners are out there,” John gestured with a finger behind Trevor. “There’s a possibility they’re out in the back too,” he said as he pointed at his back. “Given the fact that we were ambushed out of fucking nowhere, there’s no guarantee the back alleys would be safe.”

 

“So, what do you suggest?” Trevor asked.

 

“Well the best alternative would be through the rooftops,” John answered, pointing upwards.

 

“Huh. Well, find the staircase then. I’ll cover your six,” Trevor said as he bent down to pick up his gun, his orange scarf flapping through the air.

 

John was about to turn to do so when he noticed a hand abruptly breaking through the barricaded window and grabbing onto Trevor’s scarf.

 

“Shiiit!” Trevor coughed; as he felt himself being hoisted up to an infected’s face. The man desperately waved his arms around, trying to break free from the runner’s grasp to no avail.

 

“Trevor!” John shouted in both surprise and fear as he drew out his gun and tried to aim, which was easier said than done when Trevor was flailing around too much to get a clear shot. “Goddamit!” John screamed as he shot a few rounds, missing his target. It seems years of target practice in the academy didn’t matter when faced with anything other than human. Before John could fire another round, Amy’s infected head popped from the other side Trevor and mercilessly bit down on Trevor’s face causing the man to shout from extreme pain.

 

“Son of a bitch!” John screamed, enraged as he steadied his aim and fired two bullets at both of the infected’s heads, killing both instantly. The death of the two caused Trevor to drop down on the floor with a large thud. 

 

“Shit, Trevor!” John said as he approached Trevor who was sputtering blood on the floor. A part of his left cheek was missing a chunk of flesh, as blood seeped down his face. John took another step when both men heard howls from outside. It wouldn’t take long before the horde would eventually find out where they were hiding.

 

 _How the fuck did they find us!? Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_ John shouted in his head as he jogged up to Trevor.

 

“No. Blake stop!” Trevor said as he signaled John to stop a few feet away from him.

 

“Trevor…” John said grimly, knowing fully well what Trevor was about to say.

 

“You know what to do,” Trevor drearily said as he coughed up blood. John couldn’t help but stare at his friend’s wound, which was starting to form boils.

 

“No.” John said, mind refusing to process what Trevor said.

 

“There’s no other way Blake,” Trevor coughed as the air around them was overrun by a myriad of shrieks and howls that both men heard.

 

“They’re coming here Blake. You need to shoot me. I don’t want to turn into one of them. Please,” he begged John through bloodied, gritted teeth.

 

John looked at him sadly, unmoved and silent before he finally raised his gun at him.

 

“Thank you,” Trevor said as he flashed John one last bloodied smile.

 

John smiled back before he unceremoniously pulled the trigger. A second later, blood spattered on the wall beneath the broken window as Trevor’s head fell down onto the floor, a bloodied smile painted on his face.

 

A smile that John was sure would haunt him for the rest of his life.

 

As soon as John lowered the gun in shock, a howl ripped through followed closely by a head coming into the window’s view.

 

“Shit! They’re here!” John said to himself as he watched more infected heads popping within the window’s view.  _The gunshots must have set them off,_ he thought as he watched them claw their way through the remains of the boarded up window.

 

“Time to fucking leave,” John swore as he sprinted towards the back to find the stairs. He hadn’t even made past the mezzanine floor when he finally heard the runners growling inside the building.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” John shouted in frustration as he ran up more stairs. “You couldn’t even wait until I was at the roof before letting them in? Fuck you!” he cussed at the universe, all the while loading his handgun with another clip.

 

He was up six flights of stairs, at the roof, only to have a heavily barricaded door greet him.

 

“Shit!”

 

_Rooftop plan is now bust._

 

John snarled as he quickly descended down one floor and looked down from beyond the railing. He saw a couple of runners moving fast up the stairs. With his initial plan out of the window, John had no other choice but to find an alternative way out of this building. The problem was he had no time to stop and think. So by instinct, he charged into the fifth floor and hoped he could find a fire escape - or something.

 

_Or something!? I’m screwed!_

 

The detective didn’t even bother barricading the fifth floor door. If his assumptions were correct, there were about eight or so runners following after him. He’d rather not waste any time slowing down. Eight was too much big of a number to gamble his life on.

 

John ran through the hallway, peering at every room for about two seconds before moving onto the next one when he found the current one useless.

 

 _Shit._  John cursed to himself after he passed four sets of rooms that were all heavily barricaded and closed off.  _If I were a fire escape, where would I be?_ He thought to himself. His gaze wandered frantically before spotting a sign at the end of the hall proudly saying, “Fire Exit”. He shook his head as he followed the sign’s arrow, silently cursing for wasting precious seconds on wandering aimlessly.

 

There were many instances in his career that had John Blake running from some really powerful thugs and criminals. At those times, he was one hundred percent certain he was at his limit as he sprinted away from incoming bullets and on some occasions, some really sharp objects. Perhaps the only good thing this apocalypse brought him was that he found himself breaking some of these limits he had mentally engraved inside his head. Especially now when he was running away from the pack of runners who now had finally entered the floor John was on.

 

“Shit. Shit. Shit!” John whispered to himself as he desperately tried to pry the wooden planks nailed securely against the fire escape window. As the cries of the runners grew louder, John’s patience slowly simmering. “I don’t have fucking time for this!” he growled as he wasted his entire clip on the planks. Thanks to the impact of the shots and the generous fact that the wood was beyond rotten already, a slam from John broke through the window.

 

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” John said as he carefully crept through the window, taking point to avoid the glass shards lying around. The detective had one foot already on the metal fire escape when a hand suddenly seized his leg and tried prying him back inside.

 

“Motherfucker!” John screamed as he turned his attention back inside and saw that there was a female runner grabbing his leg. Behind her John saw a few more runners heading inside the room, looking forward to helping her nab their prey.

 

“LET GO OF ME, YOU BITCH!” John growled as he tried tugging his leg away from her grasp. Unfortunately she was much too strong for him to deal alone, especially in the compromising position that he was in. With his patience gone, John grabbed his gun with his right hand and aimed it at the bitch’s head and pulled the trigger. The runner’s face exploded as her grip on John’s leg suddenly loosened, which unbalanced John.  

 

The detective stumbled, failing to get a grasp on his footing. The next thing he knew, he toppled over the balcony railing and fell. As he fell, John screamed out in pain as he felt something sharp rake through his right arm. He couldn’t even register a curse at that before he finally hit the ground and lost all consciousness.

 

~ 

 

_The sound of raindrops falling on top of his police car woke John up from his stupor. He groaned as he slowly opened his eyes to find that he was slumped over the steering wheel. “What the? Where am I?” John thought as his eyes slowly adjusted to the pitch-black darkness that surrounded him. He placed his hands against the front window and peered, anxiously trying to see if he could find anything in the darkness, but he couldn’t make out anything at all._

_“Am I dead? Did I go to heaven or something?” John muttered to himself as he slumped against his seat, at a loss on what to do. A second later, a bright light appeared from behind. John quickly turned his head around to investigate only to be blinded by the intensity of the light. He shielded his eyes with his left arm and noticed that he had on his police uniform._

_“Ooookay… Why am I wearing my force uniform?” John wondered as more and more questions piled up in his head._

_When the light died down to a more acceptable level, John warily lowered his arm. He saw a ray of light permeating from behind a door ajar. As he squinted his eyes, John saw that his car was parked directly in front of his orphanage._

_He got down his car, traversed through the drenched pavement and got up the stairs to the foyer. He grasped the doorknob and slowly peeked inside, only to get a whiff of the familiar scent of the orphanage he grew up in. John stepped inside and closed the door behind him, silencing the ominous sound of raindrops crashing onto the ground._

_John couldn’t help but notice that the orphanage looked exactly what it was before the infection broke out: all of the lights were up and running, the carpet along the main hallway was still pristine, the windows weren’t boarded up whatsoever, dozens of pictures of the kids lined up the wall. In short, it looked like home – felt like one too. But as John walked around, he couldn’t help but feel something was missing. It was uncharacteristically quiet._

_Too quiet._

_“Hello?” John asked with a shout as he walked deeper into the house. Normally, the boys would be running around towards him already. “Anyone home?” he asked again as he entered the living room. Inside, he stopped in his tracks as he saw an unfamiliar boy crying with his back turned to John._

_“Hey, you okay?” John asked as he approached the little kid. “What’s wrong?” he added as he came closer. He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder causing the boy to stop crying. “It’s all right,” John said gently with a smile._

_The boy’s head simply turned and John saw his unmistakable bloodshot eyes. He growled before leaping on John and biting on his neck causing the detective to scream. He pulled the boy away from him and threw him across the room. He placed a hand on his neck and felt the warmth of the blood oozing out._

_“SHIT!” John cussed at the realization of being bit and the implications of what it meant for him. He didn’t have time to ponder too much as he heard more growls behind him. He slowly turned his head and saw the entire orphanage boys looking up at him, everyone infected and hungry. He didn’t even have time to cry out when they all rushed at him simultaneously._

 

John’s eye bolted open as he sat up straight, his brow damp and sweaty from the nightmare he had just woken up from. A split second later, he closed his eyes again and cried out in pain as a considerable amount of pain shot up through his right arm. When he reached out and gently cupped his right arm, he found an unfamiliar cloth wrapped around it. Curious, John opened his eye and discovered his right arm was bandaged pretty tight, a hint of red barely poking through the surface.

 

His attention then focused on his surroundings, his eyes unrelenting in observation. The room was very dark – close to pitch black even. John couldn’t make out where the door or window was located. Heck, the detective wasn’t even sure there were any windows! The only other source of light he saw were the two dimly lit candles situated on a nearby circular table. He studied them carefully, deducing from what’s left of their size, he had been in this room for quite some time. His eyes then caught sight of a full-length mirror beside it. He couldn’t make out if it was free standing or not for all John saw was his reflection from it. He blinked his eyes in astonishment at the mirror as only through staring at his own reflection did it only occur to him that he was… naked.

 

 John hastily looked down underneath the blanket covers.

 

 _Okay, maybe not fully naked_. John said in his head as he stared at his boxers.  _Whoever saved me at least had the decency of letting me keep my underwear on_.  _Speaking of which… where are my clothes?_

 

The detective looked around the room to see where his clothes were at, but the lack of visibility clearly did not help one bit. He tried to shrug the blanket off his body only to stop and stare at it. He stretched out the material in front of him and after upon closer inspection, John frowned at his mistake.

 

_This isn’t a blanket. It’s a trench coat._

 

“Aaah you’re awake,” a slightly mechanical voice called out in the dark.

 

Alarmed, John quickly put down the trench coat as he tried to look for the source of that chilly voice. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but that voice was somehow familiar to John. It’s as if he heard it before and his instincts told him that voice certainly didn’t belong to anyone friendly.

 

“Who’s there?” John asked with an edge to his voice.  _I didn’t even hear him come inside! Or wait, maybe he was here the entire time._  The thought of being studied and surveyed without his consent sent chills down John’s spine.

 

“There is no need to be alarmed little one. I am not here to hurt you,” the voice responded, his tone sounding quite amused at John’s suspiciousness. And with that, a large looming figure stepped out from the shadows and into the candlelight. The figure belonged to a very muscular man. He was wearing black pants and boots that framed his largely built thighs and calves perfectly. He had a black tank top, exposing much of his shoulders and arms that had a few cuts among them. His chest had some sort of device hooked up to it that continued upwards to his face that proudly ended to some sort of metallic mask.

 

John felt his eyes nearly pop out of its sockets as he stared with mouth wide open at the figure standing before him. He knew exactly who the voice belonged to. After all, how could he forget the voice of the terrorist who sent Gotham to the apocalyptic state that it was in today?

 

“Bane,” he said, mouth parched as he hastily got out of the bed to put as much distance as he can from the terrorist. The sudden rush of movements caused his right arm to surge with more intense pain as he nearly wobbled over.

 

“I wouldn’t move much if I were you,  _detective_ ,” Bane replied, emphasizing the last word with a mixture of both amusement and disdain.

 

The detective’s eyes snapped up to look at Bane who was now sitting down comfortably at the table. The terrorist was waving his ID in the force in his right hand, his muscles flexing while doing so. John looked at his eyes and found him utterly paralyzed with fear.

 

  _Shit. He’s going to kill me! Where the fuck is my gun?!_

 

“Now… Detective John Blake,” Bane said as he read out John’s name from his ID. “Why don’t you sit down on the bed before-”

 

“Before what? Before you kill me?” John challenged back, his mouth seemingly having a mind of its own. Truth be told, he was scared shitless. But he’d be damned to let Bane know that he was simply going to roll over before him because of that.

 

Bane blinked at the detective who was glaring daggers at him before barking into a laugh.

 

 _Oh god. He’s insane._  John thought as he watched the large man enjoy this moment. He couldn’t help but inch a bit further away only to have his back connect with the wall. His eyes darted around the room, looking for a door. Even if he managed to escape Bane, he’s sure there are at least a dozen mercenaries just waiting outside.

 

“Kill you?” Bane asked as his laughter died down. “Why if I wanted to do that  _John_ , I would have left you to die in the snow with all the infected swarming around you.”

 

John gritted his teeth when Bane used his name.  _The nerve of this bastard. He has no fucking right._

 

“I was simply stating that you should sit down on the bed before you injure yourself some more. After all, I’d hate to see my hard work going to waste,” Bane said as he looked at John’s injured arm.

 

 _He… he patched me up?_  John asked himself as he looked down at his right arm in surprise.  _Why?_

 

“I will not ask you again,  _detective_ ,” Bane ordered, his voice venturing on threatening. John didn’t dare test the man’s patience any longer. He’s seen what he was capable of and truthfully, he’d rather not die today. No matter the circumstance.

 

“Good,” Bane said when John finally complied with his order and sat down on the bed. “And cover yourself up with my trench coat.” The detective only looked back at Bane, unsure as to what angle the terrorist was playing with this nice guy act. He figured he must have taken too long in deep thought because Bane suddenly narrowed his eyes at him. He quickly picked up the man’s coat and wrapped it around himself.

 

“Why’d you save me?” the detective asked.

 

Bane just shrugged his shoulders, not really answering John’s question. He simply stared at the other man from top to bottom, and back up again. It made John clutch the coat even tighter, feeling more and more exposed.

 

The two of them stayed silent, with each one staring at the other. John didn’t like feeling this powerless so he simply asked, “What are you going to do with me?” Just so he could finally get this over with.

 

“That depends on how you’ll answer to my succeeding questions,” he answered flatly.

 

John scowled, hating the situation he found himself in. He didn’t know if getting held hostage by Gotham’s number one terrorist was better than being chased by a dozen of more infected.

 

“How did you escape the tunnels John?”

 

“I wasn’t in there along with the other policemen.”

 

“Aah, well that explains that… Are you with The Bats?” Bane asked him, pertaining to this small militia that was battling the League since the infection started.

 

“No,” John said with fire in his eyes. “And I don’t know where they are, so if you plan to torture me for information, you’re out of luck.”

 

“My, my, my. You have quite the temper.”

 

_You better fucking believe it._

 

“Why are  _you_  in the area?” John dared asked him to which Bane only raised an eyebrow.

 

“I think you’re forgetting who’s in charge detective. You have no authority here.”

 

“You don’t have either. Last time I checked, half of your army got attacked by the infected.”

 

A pause.

 

“That is true. But I could break you easily if I could, detective.”

 

John visibly grimaced at the thought before falling into a silence. Bane took John’s shutting up as a signal to go on. “What I would like to know is why a detective is plundering through the streets of Gotham like a pitiful scavenger,” he said as he played around with John’s ID in his hand.

 

 _Because you took over the city and gotten the entire island isolated with this fucking infection that got almost everyone, so now we’re off to fend for ourselves_  was what John really wanted to say, but instead he answered bluntly, “We needed supplies.”   

 

“You and your merry band of misfits?” Bane sneered.

 

John’s eyes flickered with hate. He didn’t like the other man referring to his fallen friends with some undistinguishable and undeserving title.

 

“I asked you a question detective.”

 

“Yes,” he spat.

 

“It’s puzzling to me as to why your group would venture out into the open with  _so_ very little weapons.”

 

_He was there? Saw everything? Watching us get murdered?_

 

“Not that I saw your little group beforehand,” Bane continued, as if reading his mind. “But after surveying the area after I rescued you, I was incredibly surprised at how only four people including yourself brought arms.” Bane stared back at John’s eyes, waiting for his question to be given an answer.

 

Before John could answer, he saw Bane chuck his ID down on the table and grabbed something from the darkness. When the terrorist brought it into the light, John realized it was his bag. He narrowed his eyes as Bane nonchalantly dumped its contents on the table in front of him. The detective watched the man survey the items he retrieved.

 

“Quite a find, John. I’m sure you’ll be well stocked until your next plunder,” Bane said in a flat voice.

 

John wanted to shout at the man rummaging his stuff. He wanted to tell him to get his grubby hands away. That he didn’t want the hands of a killer staining the food his kids will eat.

 

“They’re not for me,” John replied immediately. “They’re for my kids,” he continued. And John could have sworn Bane briefly paused when he mentioned  _kids_.

 

“Your kids?” Bane asked, hand resuming picking up the items and examining them closely.

 

“From the orphanage,” John answered. “I loot for  _them_ ,” he continued, giving Bane his most steely glaze.

 

“I see,” Bane said, turning his attention back at John now. “And where is this orphanage of yours located?”

 

John really didn’t want to answer that question, but when Bane suddenly got out of his chair, he yelped, “On the other side of town!” Bane simply stood in place, looking at the detective for the longest time. John for his part, glared back with fake courage.

 

“I see,” Bane said before looking down at the supplies on the table. What the terrorist next did surprised John. The mercenary carefully placed all the items back into his rucksack. He wasn’t stuffing them inside, mind you. Bane was actually taking his time, making sure none of the items got squished or damaged when he placed them inside John’s pack.

 

“I will let you rest for now. It would take some time before your clothes dry. After that, we will leave,” Bane said as he tucked John’s rucksack under the table.

 

John had to shake his head, not sure if he heard that correctly. “Where are you taking me?” he asked. He knew he shouldn’t be asking questions, but again, his mouth got the better of him.

 

“I’m taking you to your orphanage. You won’t be able to move much in your condition. Especially since your shooting arm is injured,” Bane said, like it wasn’t a big deal.

 

The detective’s mouth opened in shock. “Why?”

 

“You do need to deliver these to you kids right?” Bane asked him as he kicked John’s bag underneath the table for emphasis.

 

John couldn’t believe what was happening.  _He’s escorting me to the orphanage? Is he fucking crazy? No way am I going to let that happe-_

 

“You don’t have a choice on the matter detective,” Bane said sternly when he saw John’s rather appalled expression painted on his face.

 

“I am not going to allow the League of Shadows to know where my orphanage is located just so you can attack it sometime after,” John said hotly. He’ll be damned if he was going to allow that to happen.

 

“League of Shadows?” Bane asked, confused. “Oh detective, you misunderstand me. I, and only myself will be escorting you.”

 

 _What? He’s not traveling with any soldiers?_  “You’re traveling alone?” John asked, voice hoarse.

 

“That is the definition of I is it not?” Bane asked back, irritation slowly creeping on his face.

 

“Bu... but why?” he asked back. He didn’t understand why Bane, leader of the terrorists was traveling alone. Especially when there were infected running about.

 

Bane’s eyes narrowed at him. “I think I’ve answered enough of your questions John. Now rest while I go and tend to your clothes,” he said before slipping into the darkness leaving John alone to wonder.

 

 

~

 

TBC

 


	2. An Unlikely Partnership

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Overwhelmed with all the feedback so much that it's gotten my creative juices flowing. So here's chapter 2 for you guys!

“Eat,” Bane said to John as the man dropped a bowl on the table, causing the young detective to wince from the loud thud. Bane stepped back and stood against the counter to give the detective some space.

 

John narrowed his eyes at Bane, still not fully trusting the mercenary who bullied him into escorting him back to the orphanage. He wasn’t sure what the man’s M.O. was, but the young detective was a hundred percent certain Bane had something up his sleeve. His instincts told him to run, but reason told him otherwise. With his right arm injured, he couldn’t afford to use his gun against any infected he may come across. So against his better and wiser judgment, he decided to go along with Bane’s plan – for now.

 

“We’re going to be traveling for a while and you’re going to need your strength,” Bane added as he crossed his arms against his chest.

 

John turned his attention towards the bowl and frowned, not really sure what exactly was in it. If he had to guess, John would say it was oatmeal. _A sad and unappetizing bowl of oatmeal._ He glanced back up at Bane and replied, “I’m not hungry.” _Actually I am, but I’m certainly not going to eat that._

 

“Just eat it,” Bane said, tone flat, clearly not amused at John’s _lack_ of appreciation over his kind gesture.

 

The detective couldn’t help but look down again at the bowl. “What is it?”

 

_It looks like shit._

 

Bane completely ignored his question and simply barked, “Eat it or I will feed you myself.”

 

John’s shoulders slumped in defeat as he recognized the dangerous and threatening tone present in Bane’s voice. Not wanting to piss the other man any further, John slowly scooped up a bite, inserted it in his mouth, and swallowed. True enough to his earlier observation it tasted absolutely horrible. Noticing that Bane still had his eyes set on him, John continued eating the awful tasting oatmeal he was given, forcing himself to swallow every bite. Once he finished, Bane moved away from the counter, entered into another room leaving John alone again to his thoughts.

 

 _Gee John, just how are you going to explain this one to the kids? Hey kids, meet Bane. You know the terrorist who trapped the policemen in the subways, the mercenary who placed a bomb inside the city. You know, basically the man behind all of the extra shit happening to Gotham lately. But hey, it’s okay because he saved me!_ John flinched at the thought. Out of all the things he didn’t like about this situation, his number one gripe was the fact that he was indebted to Bane for saving his ass. John snapped out of his reverie when he heard Bane’s footsteps fast approaching.

 

“Where is this orphanage of yours again?” Bane asked. “I don’t think I’ll be able to escort you there if I don’t know where it is,” he added when he noticed John didn’t answer him.

 

“It’s on the outskirts of the quarantined zone of the city,” John replied, not wanting to give the exact address.

 

“Outskirts near the city or near the rural part of Gotham?” Bane asked patiently.

 

“On the rural part,” John muttered.

 

“Right. Get ready. We’re leaving,” Bane said as he dumped on the table, John’s remaining belonging: his rucksack, his boots, and his gun.

 

Before John could say anything else, Bane stepped out into the back alley and gently closed the door behind him.

 

“Hey wait a minute!” John shouted. Cursing to himself, he quickly put on his remaining items and holstered his pistol before following Bane out the back door of the apartment. As soon as he stepped out into the cold, John paused. He stood there at the back porch, completely dumbfounded.

 

_What the fuck? Where the hell did Bane go?_

John’s eyes must have deceived him because he couldn’t find Bane anywhere. He looked to his left then to his right for signs of a large, looming figure to no avail. John even looked down at the snow for Bane’s footprints. That too was a bust. He scratched his head, flabbergasted.

 

_He couldn’t just disappear into thin air. Unless he’s a ghost of course… No John, stop that. You’re being completely irrational. He must have simply gone ahead and left you…_

_Leaving you no trace of him to follow…_

_With a busted shooting arm…_

_Ripe for an infection attack…_

_Fantastic._

 

John hung his head in utter exasperation. _Well so much for being an escort_. The young man jumped off the small set of steps from the back porch and landed squarely on the snow. _Well, better get a move on and catch up with him_. John told himself as he loaded a clip into his gun. True, his right arm may be injured, rendering him unable to shoot accurately but somehow having a loaded gun was helping him calm his already spiking nerves.

 

The young detective cautiously made his way through the narrow back alley, not liking how eerily silent the area was. John walked along the high wooden fence while keeping his eye on the apartment doors a few feet away from his path. The last thing he needed right now was a horde of runners sprinting from inside the deserted apartments. He walked a couple of blocks until he finally reached an intersection.

 

“Okay, now where do I go?” John whispered to himself as he looked around the corner, looking for signs of Bane. “Great, where did that man run off- Aaahhhh!”

 

John cried out as he suddenly fell down face first on the snow. He felt snow entering his nostrils as he gritted his teeth in pain. He couldn’t move. A hand pushed his head down firmly on the ground, disabling him from turning it. Another unknown hand restrained his arms behind his back, preventing him from reaching out and grabbing his gun. Something heavy and powerful was pinning his back down on the ground. John surmised it was either a knee or a boot.

 

 _Shit! Shit! I’m in trouble!_ John’s mind raced with helpless thoughts as he tried to wiggle his body in an attempt to escape his assailant’s hold on him. His assailant responded to his feeble actions by tightening the grip on John, causing the young man to let out huge wails of agony. He waited for that bite to come to him. _Oh god! Oh god! I’m gonna die!_ John screamed silently as his eyes started to water from the intense pain. With the amount of pressure pushing down on his head and forearms, John felt his head was going to crack and his arms were going be torn off from his body. _I can’t die! I CAN’T!_

 

“Bane!” John shouted with eyes closed, at a loss of what to do at his current position. “BANE! HELP ME! PLEASE!!!” he begged, spitting out the words in the process. As soon as he mentioned the name, John felt the grips on him stop and slowly loosening.

 

And then heard a mechanical voice call out from on top of him, “You disappoint me _John._ ”

 

John’s eyes flew open upon recognizing that voice. Now that the hands pinning him down were gone, he turned his head around and found Bane towering over him with a look of dissatisfaction. He rubbed the snow off his face as he hastily stood up, stepped away from the mercenary and drew his gun.

 

“What was that for?!” John accused as he aimed his gun at Bane. His stance wavered when he felt pain shooting up his right arm again. It was so intense that he had to drop his gun on the snow as John clutched his injured arm with the other.

 

“I told you that you wouldn’t be able to shoot with that arms of yours anytime soon,” Bane mocked him, completely ignoring the question. The man simply stood there, hand at his side watching John contend with the pain.

 

“It wouldn’t have hurt this much if you didn’t jump me!” John spat out as he leaned against a brick wall for support. He glowered at Bane with fierce eyes. Not that it was very effective. Bane was after all incredibly taller than he was.

 

“I was simply performing a simple exercise,” Bane replied, very matter-of-factly as he stared at the direction of their original starting point.

 

_An exercise? Is he fucking kidding me? I could have died!_

 

“And you failed miserably,” Bane added as he looked back at John with that same disappointed expression in his eyes. “It seems that even detectives such as yourself have questionable survival skills.”

 

“What are you talking about?” John asked, narrowing his eyes at the taller man.

 

“Tell me John,” Bane said as he gestured towards the alley behind them. “Do you have any idea on what you did wrong?”

 

John raised his eyebrow at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he asked, only to clamp his mouth shut the moment he realized he basically just cussed at a terrorist.

 

Thankfully for him, Bane didn’t mind (or probably just ignored it altogether) and just responded by pointing over at John’s footprints in the snow. “Your first mistake was leaving your tracks in the snow. You want to know why your little hiding spot in that printing office was discovered? It’s because you and your friend with the orange scarf left footprints for the infected to follow.”

 

John looked at his footprints in the snow and paled considerably while doing so. He couldn’t believe that the reason Trevor died was because of their stupidity. He felt bile rising up in his throat at the thought. Consequently, he turned around to face the brick wall and vomited.

 

He couldn’t believe it. Trevor might still be alive if both of them were just a little more careful.

 

After throwing up, realization finally hit him. That’s why he didn’t see any traces of Bane earlier. He was being careful covering his tracks. John mulled over how Bane could have attacked him from behind without him hearing a goddamn thing.

 

_I didn’t even hear him coming! The snow should have made a sound for sure._

“Just because they don’t look human anymore, does not mean they are not capable of thinking like one,” Bane lectured behind him.

 

“Did you see us?” John asked, not clarifying who he pertained to. He was pretty sure Bane could have picked up on whom he was referring to.

 

“From the rooftops yes. The sounds of the infected got my attention.”

 

“I see… How’d you cross then?” John asked, his head still resting against the brick wall. He glanced back with his eyes to look at Bane from the corner of his eye.

 

Bane pointed back and John followed the terrorist’s finger to find numerous bits of junk covering one side of the alley. The detective furrowed his eyebrows at the sight. There was a pile of junk lined up in a straight line. Trash can lids, dumpster covers, ripped curtains, cardboard boxes and a whole plethora of everyday items were all laid out along the apartment walls. Normally these wouldn’t really catch anyone’s eyes if someone did pass by, but upon closer inspection, John could see that they were lined up too neatly and organized, as if placed there on purpose. The detective gathered Bane must have set them up while he was unconsciousness and used it to traverse the alley without touching the snow on the ground.

 

John’s gaze then went back to Bane. He may need to reevaluate his perception on Bane. _The man’s more dangerous than what I pegged him for_. The thought terrifying John even more and promptly sending a numbing chill down his spine _._ Even the winter cold didn’t give him chills this intense.

 

“Your gun _detective_ ,” Bane purred as he handed John’s gun back to him. John stared at the barrel of his gun before he grabbing it and turned to face Bane again. “Your carelessness will be the death of you John,” Bane added before John could put a word in.

 

“What was my next mistake?” he whispered back.

 

“Hmm?” Bane not hearing John properly.

 

“You said that was my first mistake,” John said stubbornly. “What’s my next one?” he asked again, his eyes glazing with intense determination and resolve. He figured he might as well indulge and benefit from Bane’s knowledge on zombie apocalypse survival 101 because he obviously didn’t have a fucking clue.

 

Bane openly studied him for a few moments before finally replying, “You let your guard down.” He then walked ahead of John into the next section of the city.

 

 _Leave it to a terrorist to tell you you’ve been living your life wrong_. John contemplated before taking a deep breath and following Bane. _Just… keep your cool John._

 

As John trekked through the southernmost part of Gotham with Bane, he found out that the mercenary _never_ ran out of ways to surprise him. True to his statement earlier, Bane made sure to carve an inconspicuous path for the two of them by using whatever was in the vicinity as walkways or stepping stones. If there were none, Bane would create false tracks that would lead to the opposite of the direction they were going.

 

 _Truly ingenious stuff_.  John noted because frankly, with infected running amuck, covering his tracks was the least of his worries. Watching Bane was like watching that Man Against Wild guy on television. _Only more dangerous._

 

That wasn’t the only the thing that surprised John though. The man’s size and movement puzzled the detective as well. The man may seem large and bulky but John observed that Bane was far from slow. In fact, he was very agile and lithe to the point that he was able to vault over wooden fences and grab onto balcony railings with ease. He watched Bane with utmost fascination as the man tried to find ways to help him cross certain obstacles without exerting too much effort and energy for John. His resourcefulness on making things work for the two of them made John thankful that the mercenary was on his side. _For now at least,_ he reminded himself whenever he got too praiseful of Bane’s skills.

 

Of course, Bane’s surprising agility did not say that Bane wasn’t powerful. John was all too familiar with his strength when he watched videos of him back in the force. He knew just how much ruthless the man could be, remembering particularly that video of him snapping the neck of some doctor in the football stadium. But still, it was hard for the detective to fathom how a single man could have saved John from that runner ambush when there were around a dozen or more runners prowling through the area.

 

He got the answer to that particular question a few alleys later.

 

As soon as they entered another narrow alley, Bane suddenly pushed him behind one of the dumpsters and told him quietly to stay put. John glared across Bane, not appreciating the fact that he was just pushed, his face connecting to the snow again on the ground. When he noticed that Bane wasn’t looking back at him but instead ahead, John gathered up some courage and peeked from the edge of the dumpster.

 

Several feet away from them, he saw four male runners devouring on something that resembled like a dead Labrador. All of them had their backs turned against the two of them. John’s gaze went back to Bane who now stood up from behind the dumpster and was now ready to throw a bottle. He was about to ask Bane what the fuck he was thinking but was too late as Bane threw it beyond the group of runners. The shattering of the glass captured the attention of the runners as they stopped eating and stood up, spreading out in the process.

 

The next thing John knew, Bane vaulted over the dumpster as he ran lightly on the snow, his trench coat billowing in the breeze. As soon as he got within range, Bane pierced one runner on the head with what John assumed to be some sort of knife. When the first runner let out a gurgle of pain and fell dead on the ground, Bane grabbed the nearby runner by the head and smoothly rammed it against the brick wall several times until it was dead. By then, the other two runners finally noticed Bane’s presence and growled menacingly at him, not liking their lunch being interrupted. John’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest as he watched the two runners charge at the terrorist simultaneously. That didn’t daunt Bane though. He whirled his knife on his hand before settling on a different grip and readied for the attack. When one of the runners raised his arms to grab him, Bane ducked, turned to his side, and then viciously slashed down on the runner’s neck, severing it completely from the body. With his back turned on him, the other runner decided it would be a good idea to jump on Bane. Midway through his leap, Bane turned and without missing a beat, plunged his knife deep into the chest of the last runner, sputtering out blood from his mouth before falling down on the snow to join the rest of the dead runners.

 

Bane looked down on the ground and surveyed the bodies. Once satisfied, he called out to John, “You can come out now.”

 

John stood out from behind the dumpster with his mouth hanging down from what he just witnessed. _That was fucking insane!_ He thought as he walked up to Bane, taking his time to get a good look at Bane’s kills. _I’ve never seen anyone move and kill anything that… effortlessly!_ He said to himself as he looked at Bane with a look of complete disbelief and awe.

 

“Something on your mind detective?” Bane asked as he began to wipe out the blood off his knife. He found John’s reaction to his kill peculiarly interesting.

 

“What the… You just… I mean you killed…” John stammered.

 

“Speak clearly _John,_ ” Bane ordered, words harsh but his tone saying otherwise. In fact, it sounded quite pleased if John had to guess.

 

“Don’t you have a gun?” John asked, finally noticing that Bane wasn’t wearing any holster. In fact, Bane wasn’t carrying anything with him. _Unless he’s gotten some deadly weapons hidden somewhere in that trench coat of his._

 

“Guns are too noisy John. They attract too much attention,” Bane said, his eyes darkening as he sheathed his knife against its case along his thigh. “Because in some cases, too much attention is a bad thing,” he added before walking away.

 

The thought troubled John. And that’s how he always ended up reminding himself that even though Bane was indeed a great asset to travel with, John pretty much still hated him. After all, none of them would be in this predicament if the League never occupied Gotham in the first place. What started out as a terrorist invasion ended up far much worse. From what he can- _Ooomph!_

 

John’s musings were suddenly interrupted when his face collided onto Bane’s back. He touched his nose, which was turning into a few shades of pink from the impact. “What’s wrong? Why are we stopping?” he asked Bane. Both of them were crouched down on the ground, maneuvering themselves across another set of small alleys.

 

“Get down, we’ve got company,” Bane whispered while peering from beyond the building he and John were currently at.

 

Curious, John peeked as well and saw what Bane was referring to. One of the tanks Lucius Fox designed was parked several feet away from them; John immediately recognized that falcon insignia spray painted against one side of the tank. Both men watched as three men garbed in military clothes, equipped with machine guns dragging a man and a woman in front of the wrought iron fence, which was the only thing separating John and Bane from the group.

 

Before John could get a good look on the man and woman, Bane grabbed John by the hem of his jacket and dragged him away from scene. “Do you recognize them?” he asked John harshly, voice low and barely above a whisper.

 

“Not personally,” John whispered back, matching Bane’s harsh tone as he pulled Bane’s hand away from him. “I mean, I recognized the insignia on the tank. They’re a group of civilian soldiers that patrol this side of the city, killing any infected that come near the safe parts of town.” He didn’t like the hardened expression on Bane’s face. “They’re one of the good guys Bane,” he assured.

 

Bane simply raised his eyebrow at that statement. “Is that a fact? Their actions suggest otherwise.”

 

“What are you talking about?” John bitterly asked, giving Bane a really dirty look. He poked his head around the corner and saw that all three military men had their back turned against them and that the man and woman were now kneeling in the snow, facing away from the three men.

 

John visibly jumped when he heard the kneeling man screaming at the armed men. “I told you we were just scavenging through this part of the city for food for our kids!”

 

“This far _out_ in the city?” one of the armed men sneered. “I find that hard to believe.”

 

“It’s true! Please you’ve got to believe us!” the woman begged. John couldn’t see her or her companion’s faces since they had their backs turned at them, but judging from the way her shoulders kept bobbing up and down, the young detective knew she was crying.

 

“If you’re telling the truth, then where are your bags of food?” another one of the armed men asked cruelly.

 

“Please, let us go,” the man begged as the woman continued bawling.

 

“Answer the question!”

 

The man sobbed from fear. “We dropped them while we came across some runners. Please… you have to believe us.”

 

“You know what,” the armed man in the center said as he exchanged glances between his comrades. “I think the reason why they’re so far out in the city _without_ any bags of food is because they’ve been bitten.”

 

“WHAT?!” the woman screamed in disbelief as she turned around to face the armed men. “That’s not true! Please you have to believe us-”

 

John recoiled in shock and anger as he saw one of the armed men jabbing the woman on the nose with the bottom of his gun. He couldn’t believe he was witnessing something as cruel and inhumane as this. His right arm found its way to his pistol only to be stopped when something gripped his arm. He looked down and found Bane’s hand gripping him tightly. John looked up at Bane and found him steeling a long, hard glare. Bane shook his head, signaling to John to not fucking try anything.

 

“You give us away John, you’re dead,” Bane threatened him, eyes cold as ice.

 

“Irene!” John heard the man shout from behind him. He looked back at the scene and found that the man was comforting the woman who now had a bloody nose. “Please! We haven’t been bitten! You can even search us. _PLEASE!_ ” he begged as he looked up at the three armed men in search of an ounce of sympathy.

 

The armed man on the right said, “I’m tired of this,” before raising his gun and shooting the man on the face. As soon as the man fell down on the ground, the woman beside him screamed prompting the armed man on the left to fire at her as well.

 

“Noisy bitch,” he muttered as soon as the woman plopped on the snow, red liquid oozing out from underneath her body.

 

John gasped from surprised and scuffled backwards, taken aback by the innocent murder of two civilians. He realized he must have been loud because one of the armed men turned around and stared at their direction, but not really moving to get a good look at them.  

 

“Hey did you hear that?” he asked his comrades.

 

Bane took that as a sign to clamp John’s mouth shut with his hand. The last thing they needed was to have their cover blown and get hunted by these crazy, fucked up militia.

 

“Hear what? I didn’t hear anything,” one of the men said from the corner.

 

“I swear I heard something. Don’t you guys want to check it out?”

 

Footsteps then shuffled in the snow. _Shit, if they move any closer, they’re going to see us!_ John fidgeted in distress, Bane’s hand still clamped on his mouth. He looked up at Bane who raised a finger to his mask, telling him to stay as fucking quiet as possible.

 

“Phil, it’s probably just some runner. Leave it.”

 

“Don’t you guys want to chase it down then?”

 

“What for Phil? I don’t want to waste any energy and ammo on _one_ measly runner, especially since we don’t have any audience to show off to.”

 

“Charles is right Phil. Besides, we already wasted a few bullets on these two shitheads.”

 

“Okay fine Rob, I get it. What do you guys wanna do now?”

 

“I don’t know about you guys, but I could really go for a beer right now!”

 

“That sounds awesome. Let’s go back to the quarantine zone and hit the bars!” one of the men said gleefully.

 

John’s stomach turned when he heard all three men laughing as if murdering two innocent civilians wasn’t at all vile and repulsive. Bane and John continued holding their breath as they waited for the three men to get in the tank and leave. Once Bane was sure they couldn’t hear the roar of the truck’s engine anymore, he finally let go of John, who scampered away from Bane and ran around the corner to check on the civilians. With a shake of his head, Bane followed John’s footsteps. He found John crouching down at the wrought-iron fence watching the bodies of the man and woman who were executed a few moments ago.

 

“I can’t believe they did this,” John growled as he tightened his grip on the iron bars, head dipping slightly in disgust. “They’re supposed to be protecting the citizens, not slaughtering them!” he shouted before turning around to face Bane with sheer indignation.

 

Bane simply looked at John, shaking his head over the detective’s naivety. “Your third mistake _John_ is assuming the most dangerous things in the city _are_ the infected.”

 

 

~

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me take this moment to direct your attention to my new profile icon <3


	3. The Sewers

“We should keep moving,” Bane said behind him.

 

John remained quiet, as he stayed crouched down on the snow, still pretty busy staring at the lifeless bodies sprawled merely a few inches from him. The bodies had finally stopped seeping blood, leaving a dark pool of crimson on the pristine white snow with the couple’s horrified still faces completing the gruesome painting.

 

The detective looked away as he tilted his head downwards, finding the scene a bit too much. With the ambush still fresh from his mind the last thing he needed to see right now was more death, especially one as merciless and unwarranted as that. It was strange. Blood really wasn’t anything new for him. In fact, he has dealt with it a lot in his line of work.

 

“John.”

 

“I heard you,” John replied morosely. His grip on the wrought iron fence slowly loosened as he stood up and turned around. Bane was simply eyeing him, curiously. He figured the mercenary wanted to say something, but he decided he wasn’t really in the mood to talk, much less listen.

 

“Lead the way,” he murmured, as he looked Bane straight in the eye. Bane, on his part, merely studied him for a few more moments before the large man resumed walking in the small alley. There wasn’t a nod or any form of acknowledgement of his request. Bane merely marched on, not saying a word at all to John. Before John followed him, he took one glance back at the dead couple and reviled on just how fucked up Gotham was.

 

The two of them followed their earlier routine of Bane making safe, inconspicuous paths and John simply following. As they made their way halfway across the southern island, the young detective found even more evidences of carnage and death as they passed by numerous bodies of dead runners, mostly finished off by these so-called soldiers.

 

He pretty much fucking hated it. Hated the infection from consuming Gotham. Hated how there are innocent people dying in the hands of criminals. Hated how there is no one that they can call for help. Hated how no one is trying to help. He just fucking hated everything.

 

But right now, what he hated most of all was Bane.

 

 _This is all your fucking fault_. John eyed Bane with intense vitriol as he lined a dumpster up this tall wooden fence they needed to cross over. Those people wouldn’t have died if Gotham weren’t fucked up with these infected murderers. _We could have escaped easily if we still had the fucking bridges that your army blew up. None of these would have happened if you didn’t fucking invade in the first place!_

 

There were a lot of things he was furious about and it seems he was projecting all his anger to the person closest to him at that moment.

 

As soon as Bane was done, he turned around and motioned John to use it to go over the fence. If he noticed the detective’s rather acidic stare, he didn’t say anything.

 

John huffed as he stomped his way towards the dumpster. He carefully pushed himself up, remembering to be extra careful to not exert any extra pressure on his right arm. He couldn’t help but give Bane a sideways look before going over the fence.  As soon as he successfully crossed over, he heard a large but unusually muffled thud beside him as Bane easily vaulted over the fence with ease.

 

The mercenary then walked a few paces into the new alley and surveyed the surroundings. John narrowed his eyes at him, noting that ever since they ran into those soldiers, the terrorist has been more observant and suspicious. Although judging from where they were standing, this alley was no different from all the other ones they traveled through earlier. Everything was still pretty much deserted and boarded up.

 

So it came to John’s surprise when Bane suddenly crouched down on the snow and started digging through the thick patch.

 

_What the fuck is he trying to find? Buried treasure?!_

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” John asked as he casually walked up to Bane, feeling annoyed at what the other man was doing. Bane didn’t answer him as he continued searching for something under the snow. The detective was about to follow up his questioning when Bane unexpectedly raised a manhole cover underneath, causing the young detective to suddenly yelp in surprise.

 

“We’re going to use the sewers now,” Bane said nonchalantly as he placed aside the cover and stared at John, motioning him to go down.

 

“What? Why?” John asked, confused and a little suspicious. Well okay, a lot suspicious.

 

Bane stood up and wiped his hands free from snow. “This will lessen the chance of running into any more soldiers as we make our way into the quarantine zone.”

 

John took a step forward and looked down at the hole, only to see nothing as it was pitch black dark. “Then why didn’t we take the sewers in the first place?” he asked, then looking up to Bane for an explanation.

 

“Because John, it’s even more dangerous down there than it is here,” Bane said flatly.

 

The young detective stayed silent. He was expecting Bane to elaborate on what he meant, but when he realized the other man was done talking, he just had to ask. “What do you mean more dangerous?”

 

Bane just stared back at him, infuriating John even more.

 

“Then why are we going down there then if it’s more dangerous?” John asked, sneaking a snarl on his face. He didn’t like where this was going. His training always taught him to never sneak on infiltrate area without knowing the enemy’s location, possible points of escape and other important details that would mean the difference between life and death. And here he was being forced to go inside a very confined area with god knows what was down there, all from the good faith of Gotham’s most wanted?

 

_No fucking thank you!_

 

Bane retrieved something from inside one of the pockets of his trench coat and took out what looked like a ratty scrap piece of folded paper. The mercenary grabbed the discarded manhole cover and placed it in front of him. John watched Bane position the paper on center of the manhole cover and quietly unfolded it to reveal a series of interconnecting lines, colored in black and red.

 

“This,” Bane gestured as he glanced up at John’s face, “is the map of Gotham’s sewage system.”

 

_What the fuck?_

 

“This is where we are,” Bane said as he pointed his stocky finger on one of the black lines at the southernmost portion of the map. He then traced his finger across the running black lines towards the west. “And this is mostly our destination. We’re going to have to take the sewers if we wish to completely avoid any hostiles on the way. Besides _detective_ , I highly doubt your little quarantine zone would freely let a person such as myself to enter your safe haven.”

 

John ignored Bane’s pathetic attempt at humor and stared at the intricacy and complexity of the map in front of him. From the strokes of the lines, he saw that the entire map was completely handmade. Clearly, he was dealing with an experienced terrorist. Taking down notes and creating maps like it was as simple as completing a Sudoku puzzle, he thought to himself. He didn’t know what other tricks Bane had up his sleeve. But at the back of his mind, something else was highly unsettling.

 

“Why are there two colors of lines on here?” John said as he bent down and pointed at the quarantine zone Bane indicated earlier before bringing his finger way up north to a sea of interconnected red lines.

 

“Black means it’s mostly safe,” Bane said, happy that John was able to pick that up. “Red means it’s infested.”

 

“With runners?!” John asked dubiously, looking alarmingly at Bane’s face. The mercenary simply shrugged his answer. The detective’s gaze then fell again on the red lines on the map and studied it. If what Bane says is true, then the northern and center island of Gotham is…

 

“Shit,” he whispered as he finally arrived on the conclusion.

 

“Now, get inside,” Bane ordered John as the larger man gestured towards the hole.

 

John exchanged glances between Bane and the manhole before silently descending down the ladder. Every time his foot connected with a step, he inwardly let out a huge sigh. He didn’t like that every step he took meant his vision slowly getting darker and darker.

 

It wasn’t long before he reached the bottom, his boots squeaking from whatever sticky liquid he just stepped on. Silently cursing to himself, he took a few steps forward and shook his boots free from it. His vision totally blacked out when Bane closed the manhole above them and jumped down beside John who was quivering like a cat.

 

“Do you have flashlight John?” Bane asked, beside him in complete darkness, their eyes still not adjusting to the dark.

 

“No,” John answered. _Probably because it never occurred to me that we were going into the sewers today._

 

“And here I thought you police officers were always ready for anything,” Bane taunted him as he pressed the LED flashlight cuffed onto the right breast of his trench coat.

 

“Jesus Christ!!!” John jumped back as Bane’s flashlight shone on a visibly mangled corpse leaning against a column. It was excruciatingly hideous and grotesque. Its eyes sockets were empty; the skin was decayed, its mouth frozen in a silent scream of horror. He hadn’t seen an infected attack like this one. Usually, runners would devour everything they get their hands on. But this was more sinister. This would give John a few sleepless nights for sure.

 

John stayed back as Bane trudged forward, crouched down and examined the corpse.

 

“Hmm… This is not good,” he said simply as his eyes studied the corpse’s body.

 

“What do you mean not good?” the young detective asked behind him.

 

“Judging from the body, this person just died recently,” Bane answered as he grabbed a nearby gas mask that was lying abandoned on the floor and stroked it, wondering.

 

The detective understood Bane’s words completely. “Are you saying there are runners around here? I thought you said this route was safe!”

 

“Well clearly, I was mistaken. It seems the infection spread here faster than I anticipated it to be,” Bane snapped back before tucking the gas mask in one of his pockets and rummaging through the corpse’s body for any interesting or valuable loot.

 

The detective left Bane alone, displeased that things were not looking up whatsoever.  He spied a rifle a few feet away from the body. Begrudgingly, he walked up to it and picked it up. He sulked when he realized that it was empty of bullets. “Hey Bane,” John said as he raised the gun up in his arms. A second later, Bane’s flashlight fell upon him and the gun, the brightness of the light temporarily blinding him. “Does the guy have any extra bullets with him?” he asked, squinting his eyes from the flashlight.

 

He heard Bane stand up and give a wistful sigh. “No, but I did find this,” the mercenary answered as he threw something at John who caught the item with ease.

 

“A flashlight,” Bane stated as John examined the item a little closer in his hand. It wasn’t anything fancy like Bane’s. “It still works. Use it,” he added as John tried it out and toggled the light switch on and off, showcasing a dull cone of light in the dark.

 

“Thanks,” John muttered as he switched it on and carried it on his left hand.

 

Without even giving John so much as a glance, he walked off into the darkness.

 

 _Great. Stuck defenseless in the dark in a very confined space with a psychopath. This just keeps getting better and better!_ John snarled before jogging up to catch up to Bane.

 

Bane, John noted was getting more antsy with his surroundings. The reach of the infection hitting the ‘safe’ routes of the sewers noticeably rattled the mercenary as he would stop every now and then and listen in the dark. As to what exactly the man was listening to, John had no fucking clue. They kept running into more dead people, all of who looked exactly like the first victim they spied upon. John was just thankful that they haven’t crossed paths with any runner yet. Still, that made Bane even more vigilant than ever. But every time Bane would stop and survey the surroundings, the detective would just get more and more irate until he ultimately couldn’t hold it in anymore.

 

“This is all your fault,” he finally said to Bane as they stopped on an elevated walkway intersection almost half an hour later from their starting point. The detective quivered with both fright and adrenaline as Bane slowly turned his head to stare at him.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

 

“I said,” John repeated through gritted teeth, “this is all your fault!”

 

“Oh? The young detective has a mouth, I see,” the mercenary mused, irritating John even more.

 

“You fucking bet I do!” John snarled as he stalked up to Bane, fear be damned. “If you and your fucking League of Shadows didn’t invade Gotham, none of this would have happened!” he screamed as he jabbed Bane up at his chest with his finger. “There’d be no infected! No zombie apocalypse! No fucking countless murders! It’s your fault that there are no bridges out to the mainland. With the infected running lose, the fucking army decided to blow up the only remaining bridge you didn’t destroy! Don’t you get it? This is all on you.”

 

Bane gazed down at him, expression hard and immensely vexed before shooting him his version of a pitiful smile. “You are a fool John Blake.”

 

“Excuse me?!” John shouted, feeling as if he had just been slapped on the face.

 

“If you think I am responsible for the infection, then you are solely mistaken. Of course, you don’t have to believe me, but the look in your eyes says you are in doubt and in desperate need of answers.”

 

“Then why? Why did you do it then?” John hotly asked back. He didn’t like to admit it, but Bane was right. He was in need of answers. Heck, the entire city was. He knew there must be an end goal the League had in store for Gotham.

 

Bane studied John’s furiously, determined face and chuckled behind his mask before walking off deeper into the darkness, with the young detective following him close behind.

 

“You better fucking answer me Bane!” John spat, not liking that he was being ignored yet again.

 

“I’m sure you’ve heard several of my speeches already on television _John._ Surely you’ve realized why we are doing this,” Bane said, not bothering to stop walking.

 

He did see those. After all, it was kind of hard to miss when every television screen in Gotham was airing the League’s actions everyday of every fucking hour. Still, there were a lot of things that didn’t add up. Or rather, there were a lot of questions that were still left unanswered.

 

“Gotham needed a purge John,” he said as he tilted his head back to look at John. “You have seen it for yourself with those so-called soldiers tasked to protect, brutally murdering innocent civilians. This city is filled with criminals of all forms John. They come in all shapes. They come in all sizes. Each one with their own agenda.”

 

“Which is why we have the force and the system,” John fought back as his footsteps echoed in the dark.

 

“Ahh yes. You should perfectly know all about that. After all, you have met one in the hospital a few months back.”

 

“What?!” John asked, not following Bane’s train of thought.

 

“Oh come off it John,” Bane mocked him as he peered through a corner, survival knife ready. “Don’t tell you’ve forgotten about that criminal you were watching recovering in a hospital room,” he added before making his way down the way. “It’s a pity we weren’t able to assassinate him in time.”

 

John stopped in his tracks at Bane’s words. _The commissioner_. John shook his head at that as he remembered the words he exchanged with Gordon. He was let down big time by one of the people he once respected and looked up to. Truthfully, he shouldn’t have been surprised though. All his life, John was let down by people he cared most about such as his parents, the state attorneys and prosecutors, the Batman.

 

But still-

 

_The commissioner wasn’t a criminal. He was just misguided along the way. That didn’t make it right to sacrifice millions of innocent people in Gotham just to teach the sizeable amount of criminals a lesson. History proved itself that a genocide never amounted to an acceptable answer. And it shouldn’t start now._

 

“And your answer to everything is to destroy Gotham?” John asked loudly as he walked briskly to catch up to Bane who was walking cautiously slow. “What about all the innocent people living here?!”

 

“Innocent is a strong word to throw around Gotham, _John_.”

 

“Don’t call me that!” John angrily replied.

 

That made Bane stop and stare at him.

 

“Call you what?” the terrorist asked, tilting his head to the side in inquiry.

 

“John. Don’t say my name like we are friends or colleagues or partners,” the detective glared back at Bane.

 

“But I have saved your life. I believe I do _have_ the right to call you by your given name,” Bane answered before turning his back at John and walked around the corner. And just like that, that piece of conversation was the end for Bane.

 

Unfortunately, John had other ideas.

 

“The hell you do!” John shouted with fury before skidding to a halt as he followed Bane around the corner. The mercenary was standing still a few paces away from him, peering ahead in the long, narrow passageway before them. He found it strange and curious what could have rendered the terrorist speechless in his tracks; however, Bane’s looming figure blocked John’s view of whatever it was the mercenary was staring at.

 

 _Don’t tell me there are runners_. John quickly jogged up to Bane. “What’s wrong? Why did you stop?” he asked Bane from behind. When the other man didn’t immediately respond, he stepped to the side; just enough for his head to duck through and couldn’t help but furrow his eyebrows.

 

He really couldn’t tell exactly, but Bane’s flashlight was shining down the passage and there were dust particles or something lingering in the air. In fact, that was all both men could see. The dust fog was incredibly thick, creeping John the fuck out.

 

“Dust?” John asked rhetorically, not taking his eyes off it. Did a cave-in happen here? Or an explosion of some sort?

 

“Spores,” Bane corrected him, narrowing his eyes as he tilted his head high and listened.

 

“Spores?” John echoed, waiting for Bane to explain, but the other man wasn’t paying him any attention at all. He saw the other man’s eyes narrow slightly all of a sudden.

 

John gave Bane a look before doing the same, noting that in the darkness there was a faint sound. It was subtle and distant but definitely present if you take a moment to pay attention. It sounded like a series of messy ‘clicking’ sounds. He didn’t have the slightest idea what it was though because it surely didn’t sound like a camera. It was too deep and sporadic in timing to be a machine. The detective found the best way to describe it was like hearing chickens cluck.

 

_But that was impossible because there couldn’t be any chickens in the fucking sewers… could there?_

 

“John wear this,” Bane ordered, as he handed something sideways at John.

 

The detective took the item and saw that it was the gas mask they found earlier in the sewers from the first dead corpse they encountered. Not sure as to why he had to wear it, he asked, “Why?”

 

“If you don’t wear it, the spores will infect you in a couple of seconds,” the mercenary answered, still keeping his gaze on the spores.

 

That caught John’s undivided attention.

 

“Excuse me?” he asked, not sure if he heard that part correctly or not. 

 

“John,” Bane interrupted. “You need to wear that mask now. It is not safe here. Whatever happens, stick closely to me as possible. And whatever you do, stay as quiet as you can,” the larger man ordered before venturing off towards the spores.

 

“Bane! Wait!” John called, but the mercenary did not stop walking. Realizing that Bane was not kidding around, he scrambled to put on the gas mask, taking extra care to ensure that it was snug as a rug. Hesitant and with a heavy sigh, he followed Bane into the spores. _God knows what’s inside._

 

He held his breath the first few minutes inside the spore fog, but he quickly realized that it was a really stupid idea as he nearly ran out of breath. When he breathed in through the gas mask and found that he was still pretty much human a few minutes later, he started breathing normally.

 

That was just one problem down though.

 

He found out sooner that the spores were immensely difficult to maneuver in. It was so thick and abundant in numbers that combined with the uncomfortable darkness made John’s visibility almost absolutely zero. Even with the flashlight he was holding, he found it hard to see beyond two feet away from him. That made it tremendously difficult to spot Bane since he was approximately, five to six feet away from John. _And it is hard to miss Bane to begin with._ The only way he knew where Bane was going was through the light of the terrorist’s flashlight, which was dimmer with the spores.

 

The problem that particularly bothered him the most were those goddamn clicking sounds. The fact that when the sounds got louder, Bane would always stop and walk off towards the opposite direction was evident that it was definitely something to be worried about. He tried asking about it once the first time the larger man did that, but Bane vehemently whispered him to be quiet if he wanted to stay alive.

 

That was almost fifteen or twenty minutes ago though. Now, he and Bane found themselves stepping on an elevated iron walkway. As soon as they walked a few paces on it, the metal clanged in the darkness, the sound reverberating throughout the entire area. Bane visibly stiffened when they both noticed that the clicking sounds were getting louder again. 

 

“John, stick with me and run as fast as you can,” Bane said as he turned around to face John. “And whatever you do, do not stop running.”

 

“Wha… what?” John asked, fear coursing through his body.

 

“Just do it!” Bane ordered before bolting off further into the area. John found it surprising that a man that large could move that fast.

 

The detective prayed a small prayer as he himself sprinted after Bane. He tried to catch up to the mercenary, deftly maneuvering through almost zero visibility thanks to the spores.  Their footsteps on the metal walkway echoed loudly in the dark as John’s forehead began to heavily bead with sweat, the clicking sounds getting louder and louder. John looked forward and saw that Bane’s light was getting smaller and smaller. He was getting left behind!

 

John suddenly saw the light disappear around a corner. John put up a last ditch of energy into his legs as to not lose Bane’s trail. He was about to make the turn when a fidgeting figure suddenly stepped in his path causing him to skid to a complete stop.

 

The flashlight in his hand shook in fear as it shone on a grotesque individual, stumbling a few feet away from him. John was sure it was an infected man, although it did not remotely look like any runner he’s ever encountered before. Whereas runners still retained their human faces in some way, this one was completely different. It had no face, or rather its face mutated to alarming, grotesque proportions. There was some sort of mutation growing from its neck that completely covered its face, resembling something like a mushroom head. Its eyes and nose were completely gone, but John could see its mouth filled with razor sharp teeth. It staggered around in its place, making epileptic fits and spewing off weird sounds. Hearing the sounds it was making, John froze.

 

 _This was the one making the clicking noise! Shit._ John muttered to himself as he watched the infected move around in some sort of daze. He was sure that the moment his flashlight shone on the infected, it would attack him instantly, but somehow it wasn’t. It simply staggered around, not paying John any attention at all. The detective didn’t know why. And he certainly wasn’t going to stick around and find out!

 

He carefully sidestepped around it when he realized that it wasn’t planning on attacking him – that was until he accidentally stepped on a few shards of glass. The sound of glass cracking under the heel of his foot instantly grabbed the attention of the new infected. It turned its mutated head at John with perfect accuracy, raised its arms and charged at him with alarming speed.

 

“Shit!” John said as he barely managed to grab the infected’s arms from wrapping around him. He held the infected arm’s up in the air as it tried leaning its mutated head into John to bite him. “Get the fuck away from me!” John snarled through gritted teeth as he used every ounce of his strength to try and push the infected away from him. Unfortunately for John, the infected’s strength was greater than his own and he found himself getting pinned down on the floor, his flashlight abandoned a few inches away from him.

 

 _Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!!!_ John shouted in his head as he wrestled with the infected on the ground. He got a closer look at the infected’s razor sharp teeth and grimaced at the thought of being bitten by those. _Shit! I can’t use any of my hands to grab my fucking gun!_

 

The addition of clicking sounds had John tear his gaze away from the infected. His flashlight shone into the heavy darkness of spores and he saw several silhouettes staggering in the distance. “Are you fucking kidding me!?” John cursed when he saw more of this new infected type step into the light and head towards him. _I don’t have the strength to fight off one, how the fuck am I going to fight four?!_

 

John’s attention swirled back to the infected pinning him down, noting that its teeth were getting bigger and bigger, a sign that it was winning the battle. “Shit! Get the fuck away from me!” John shouted with utter despair.

 

The infected merely screamed at him before blood oozed down from its forehead. The detective’s eyes widened when he saw Bane grab the dying infected off of him and easily tossed it aside.

 

“Bane!” John whispered in exhilaration.

 

Bane didn’t acknowledge him as the rest of the infected started charging at the two of them. John watched Bane make quick work out of them effortlessly with the help of his survival knife. Once their clicking sounds died down, Bane turned his attention back at John who was still lying on the ground in shock.

 

“I thought I told you to be quiet,” he said, glaring at John.

 

“Well it’s hard to not shout for your life when you’re almost about to die!” John said, glaring right back at the larger man. He slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position, staring at the dead infected around them.

 

“If you want a Clicker to kill you, then you should _indeed_ shout some more,” Bane said, patience obviously waning evident in the tone of his voice.

 

“Clickers? Is that what these things are?” John asked with disgust as he watched blood ooze out from the infected’s bodies.

 

“Yes, clickers. If you’ve been infected for a significant period of time, you mutate into these,” Bane said as he poked one dead clicker with his boot. “The mutation completely blinded them as you can see from their face, or lack of it. Instead, they make up for it by having a hearing four times stronger than a dog. If you make any sound, they’ll be able to pinpoint your exact location.”

 

“Shit,” John replied, mouth agape in horror and disbelief. “Why do they make those weird sounds?”

 

Bane just shrugged his shoulders as he bent down to pick up John’s flashlight. “We don’t have any clue. It may be some sort of sonar for them, but we’re just speculating at this point. Either way, if you hear those clicks, that’s a _warning_ for you to stay as silent as possible,” he explained as he handed John his red flashlight back.

 

Before John could thank him, a multitude of clicking sounds rang in the shadows catching both men’s attention.

 

“Okay we need to leave John,” Bane said sternly as he walked only to stop and look at the young detective with a bemused expression.

 

“Why I do believe that’s the second time I’ve saved your life John. Now I’m absolutely positive I _do_ have the right to call you by your name _John_.”

 

 

~

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. Had to update my other story first. But now that it's out of the way, here you go. Hope you guys enjoy this one!
> 
> Oh, in case you need a visual of a Clicker: http://cf.shacknews.com/images/20130204/infected_female_hn_03f_24567.nphd.jpg


	4. The Orphanage

John had been running through the sewers for more than thirty minutes already. At least that’s what he’d like to assume. After all, he had no way to determine the time, seeing as he didn’t bring a watch with him during his group’s scavenging hunt. One of the members of his small group was designated as the timekeeper and well, we all know how that turned out.

 

He had been closely following Bane since his first deadly encounter with the clickers. John appreciated that the other man slowed down his running to a certain degree. Now he had no trouble keeping up with the mercenary in this dangerous environment.

 

Their footsteps echoed in the dark, grabbing the attention of those wretched infected who seemingly popped out of the pits of hell and right onto their heels. On more than one occasion, the detective had to stop and stare in awe as Bane deftly and brutally butchered the clickers that came too close for comfort. He too managed a few kills of his own – although that involved merely pushing off the infected over the metal railings and into an unknown, black abyss below. Sure it wasn’t as graceful and awesome as Bane’s method of murder, but it did manage to keep him alive so John really had no reason to complain.

 

The darkness of the sewers, coupled with the thick spores permeating in the air made it impossible for him to decipher just where the heck they were heading. Bane, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. The mercenary would abruptly turn around a corner or ignore one without batting an eyelash. John figured the mercenary had the entire sewers of Gotham mapped out in his head. Of course, there is also the _possibility_ of Bane not knowing where he was going and was merely moving in the dark in blind faith. But John was desperately trying to be optimistic in this entire situation so he decided to forego that train of thought.

 

Both men were running on the elevated metal walkway when Bane suddenly stopped, causing John to slow down and follow suit.

 

“Bane, what’s wrong?” John asked as he glanced behind him to see if there were any clickers right on their heels. His flashlight shone on an empty corridor, something the detective was thankful for. Because the last thing he needed right now was to be attacked from behind by these beasts. But the growing sounds of their clicks and growls didn’t do anything to diminish his fear.

 

“Jump as far as you can,” he heard Bane say in front of him.

 

“What?” John asked as he whipped his head and flashlight back up front, just in time for him to witness Bane jumping a rather sizeable gap between the walkway and the concrete ledge on the other side.  “Oh shit,” he whispered as he watched Bane land with a huge thud.

 

He carefully tiptoed through the edge of the railing and flashed his light at the gap.

 

“Fuck,” John whispered as he stared straight down at a rather deep crevice. It was nearly impossible for him to successfully cross the other side, he thought. No fucking way he could make that jump.

 

He didn’t have time to dwell on the thought though as several loud growls and screeches suddenly howled behind him. John nervously flashed his light behind him and saw around five or six clickers stumbling through the metal walkway, inching closer to his position.

 

 _Aww fuck!_ John shouted in his head as he turned around and _motherfucking_ jumped. He almost didn’t make it too if it weren’t for Bane’s hands grabbing him in the air and hauling him up to the narrow ledge he was standing on. John leaned back against the wall and let out one huge sigh of relief as he turned around and watched the clickers slow down their advance.

 

Now that Bane and John were both off the metal walkway, the echoes of the metal clanging within the confined walls slowly died down. John watched the clickers stumble just a few feet shy from the walkway’s edge. Without the sounds of both men’s footsteps making noise, the clickers were back to being pretty much literally and now, metaphorically blind.

 

And that’s when John had an idea.

 

“Hey fucktards! Over here!” John called out, catching the attention of the clickers across the gap. Collectively riled up, they all whipped their mutated, bulbous heads towards John and Bane’s position and screeched.

 

“What do you think you are doing?” Bane hissed disapprovingly beside him.

 

John looked up at Bane and shot him a serious glare through his gas mask. “Just trust me,” he whispered lightly before turning his attention back at the infected. “Hey clickers! I’m over here!” he screamed as he stomped down noisily on the concrete ledge they were (for now) safely perched on. He noticed a confused Bane eyeing him curiously as he continued to make a significant amount of noise.

 

The clickers growled even louder before bursting into full speed at John’s direction. As soon as he saw them running, his shouts intensified into screams, taunting the infected to even higher degrees.

 

And then, just as he suspected, it happened.

 

One by one, the clickers went over the railing, plunging into the darkness below. John couldn’t help but smile mischievously from behind his gas mask and make a triumphant fist pump as he watched the last of the clickers fall down to its doom. His plan worked like a charm.

 

“Impressive,” Bane muttered beside him causing John to look up and noticed that the mercenary was staring back at him with renewed interest. He shot Bane a smug smile, although he wasn’t sure if Bane would notice since there was a gas mask covering his entire face. Still, that didn’t deter him one bit as he still flashed the mercenary a smile nonetheless. Bane looked directly at John’s eyes, studying them shortly before turning around and carefully maneuvering his large body along the narrow ledge they were on. “Come, we are almost in your little _haven._ ”

 

Both men continued their trek in peace as the threat of the clickers seemingly ended in that area. The spores were still apparent, but at least they didn’t have to worry about any attacks from the infected for a while.

 

Although, the longer they stayed down here, the more questions John had in his head.

 

_Who were those people?_

_Why were they in the sewers in the first place?_

_How did they get infected?_

_How exactly did the runners mutate into clickers?_

_Is the quarantine zone safe from a clicker attack?_

_Do the quarantine zone leaders even know what a clicker is?_

 

“John,” Bane called out interrupted his thoughts.

 

“Hmmm?” John mumbled as he looked up at Bane who was arching an eyebrow at him.

 

“You can take off your gas mask now,” Bane answered as he bent down on the ground and brought out his hand drawn sewage map.

 

John blinked for a couple of seconds at Bane’s statement before it finally registered to him. Through the gas mask, he realized that there weren’t any spores in the vicinity anymore.

 

 _Guess I must have zoned out for a while for me to notice,_ John told himself as he slowly removed his gas mask and breathed in the clean air around him – well clean enough in Gotham sewage standards.

 

With the mask in his hands, he couldn’t help but wonder one particular thing that tremendously bothered him as he stared at Bane. The terrorist was busy making adjustments with the help of his red sharpie on his map. No doubt the large man was updating the current state of the sewers as he colored over several black lines indicating that it was overrun by the infected. John’s gaze slowly traveled upwards to Bane’s face. He studied the expression on the other man, noting how evidently focused Bane was with his current task. John’s eyes soon fell on the metal mask clamped on the bottom part of his face and he couldn’t help but stare at the foreign object with strong fascination and curiosity.

 

“You seem to want to ask me something detective,” Bane chided, startling John quite a bit. The mercenary didn’t even manage a glance at his direction as he continued the process of manually updating the map, yet somehow, he fucking knew that John was eyeing him from the side. “Your lack of fidgeting and your silence only suggest you’ve got something on your mind,” Bane added, still not looking at his direction as he scribbled over another black line with his red sharpie.

 

_Well, it’s now or never._

 

“Back there in the spores,” John said, gesturing down the dark corridor behind him. “I just realized something… You weren’t wearing any gas mask.”

 

Bane paused and looked up at John, the detective’s words and its denotation now grabbing his full attention. “Yes, that is correct.”

 

“Are you… immune to the virus?” John asked, looking strangely at Bane as if he was some type of rare Pokémon or something. He shuddered at the thought. _That’s the last time I let the kids talk me into playing that game._

 

“I am not,” Bane bluntly replied, then went back to his map and resumed his interrupted task.

 

“Then how? How can you breathe through the spores and still be… human?” John pried.

 

“I have a mask too in case you didn’t notice, John,” Bane answered. He dropped his red sharpie as he slowly brought up his hand against his metal mask and caressed it. “My mask filters the air I breathe… It is quite difficult to explain,” the large man continued as he briefly glanced at John’s direction. When Bane refused to say anything else, John simply assumed that that was the only explanation he was ever getting from the other man. So he decided to shift directions instead.

 

“How… How’d you get that in the first place?” John asked, bringing his hand up around his mouth and waving it, gesturing Bane’s mask.

 

Bane blinked at him before turning away and folding his map back. John watched him with silent apprehension as the larger man slowly stood up. “That does not concern you,” Bane said flatly as he took one long look at John before walking ahead, leaving the younger man all alone in his thoughts.

 

John let out a sigh as he stuffed his gas mask into his backpack. _Well okay fine._ He couldn’t help but shake his head over his disposition. It was foolish of him to assume that Bane would share such intimate and personal details of him in a very short period of time. And it was extremely foolish of him to ask those questions in the first place.

 

He looked down the corridor and saw Bane’s retreating figure. With a heavy heart, he followed suit, keeping all thoughts to himself – this time.

 

The two walked in a distinct pattern. Bane was up front while John was a few feet behind, with the latter purposely lagging behind. Since asking about Bane’s mask, the large man fell into a deep silence – something that John never thought would be uncomfortable. Initially during their adventure, he had hated all the small, snide comments Bane would say to him. But right now, as he stared at Bane’s monstrous back, he figured this was worse. All the silence had his mind slip into overdrive as a hundred other thoughts came swooping down in an instant.

 

His thoughts wandered off to his kids. Since the League’s invasion began, he couldn’t help but feel a strong connection and desire to help the children. That desire intensified even more so when the infection just started getting rampant. He and Father Reilly thought it be best to evacuate the kids from inside the city proper and down into a more secluded portion of Gotham. Now, with the advent of new types of infected running amuck, he just wished that his kids would be able to survive through all of this.

 

The Batman also crossed his mind on several occasions. It seems as though the caped crusader has disappeared completely throughout the ordeal. He just didn’t know why… and where. He had gotten Bruce Wayne out of retirement when he visited the millionaire back in his mansion a few months ago and had him kicking ass soon afterwards. But it seems Bruce had gone AWOL on them again. John tried to track him down, but he couldn’t find a trace of the millionaire anywhere in Gotham. He highly doubted that Bruce would just suddenly leave with the League still wreaking havoc to the city. So, by process of elimination, the only plausible reason he could work from the whole Batman situation was that Bruce was dead. And he shuddered at the thought.

 

But the one thing that kept creeping back into his mind every five minutes or so was the man walking a few feet away from him.

 

Bane.

 

John had to admit that the masked mercenary intrigued him to a very large degree. He’s seen the vids, the reports and the articles about him, so he had an inkling on who Bane was. But reading things about him and actually seeing him in person were two completely different things. The reports labeled him a dangerous psychopath and while yes, that part was very much evidently true, the man was different from what he expected. John had read a number of psyche profiles of would be terrorists and he found it immensely odd that Bane never fell into any of those profiles. Once he had Bane pegged down, he would do something opposite of what the profile would suggest, thus disproving John’s initial assessment. John couldn’t get a good read on him whatsoever - and he managed to guess Bruce Wayne was Batman for crying out loud!

 

“John,” Bane called out from the end of the hallway.

 

“Yes?” John asked as he approached the other man with haste. As he got closer, his flashlight was able to paint a more visible picture of Bane. The large man was standing directly under a very rusted ladder.

 

“We’ve reached your destination,” Bane explained as he took a step back when John clasped the ladder in curiosity.

 

John stared up at the ladder for a couple of seconds. “Really?” he asked in disbelief and in surprise. “How can you tell?” he shot back at Bane. He frowned when his flashlight didn’t reveal a large figure anymore, but on a deserted corridor instead.

 

_What the hell? Where did he go?_

 

The detective shone his flashlight around him in an attempt to catch Bane, but after doing a complete 360, he conceded that Bane simply vanished into thin air. A feat that was crazily spooky, as he never heard the mercenary move in the dark at all. “The fuck?” John whispered in exasperation at the thought.

 

_There goes another one of that man’s hidden talents._

 

John heaved a heavy sigh as he turned his attention back up the ladder. _I didn’t even get to say thank you._

 

His thoughts continued as he studied the ladder intently. _Bane may be Gotham’s most wanted, but at the end of the day, he still saved my life. And as much as I don’t want to admit it, I owe Bane because of that. Owe what exactly? Well that I’m not sure._

 

 _Fantastic._ John thought as he slowly climbed up towards the surface _. I’d never thought I’d owe a terrorist a favor. Who’d have thought?_ With a heavy shove, John moved the manhole cover and immediately felt a familiar cold draft hit his face. Once he was able to adjust to the sudden onslaught of air whipping his face, he cautiously peeked at the surface.

 

 _Huh._ John tutted to himself as a familiar road came into his view. The bastard knew where he was going all along. Now, he was definitely regretting not being able to at least give thanks to the man.

 

The young man slowly hauled his ass up from underneath the manhole and onto the snow. As soon as he was on the surface, he took a moment to survey the area. He noticed the road to the orphanage resting a few feet away from him. Bane was able to take him to the farthest side of the quarantine zone as possible. John never gave specific directions, simply a general location of the quarantine zone and somehow, the mercenary was able to bring him right where he wanted to be.

 

Before heading off, John decided to take some precautionary measures. He crouched down and placed the manhole cover back. He then scooped up a sizable amount of snow from within his reach and covered the manhole with it, taking careful consideration to make it look very natural as if the wind did it. He didn’t want anyone finding out that the sewers was an acceptable form of travel – well not at this moment in time, considering the advent of Clickers lurking deep inside the darkness. As John continued digging through, his eye caught something jutting out from the snow.

 

He frowned as he reached out and grabbed what seemed to be some sort of candy wrapper. Upon closer inspection, he found that it was (or well, used to be) a pack of red Skittles, one of his kids’ favorite candies. John narrowed his eyes as he studied his surroundings even more, looking for something that was anything out of the ordinary. The empty candy wrapper had his alarm bells triggering on full blast. That meant someone else knew of the sewer passages and had been using them recently. And that someone was one of his kids.

 

“Dammit,” John whispered quietly as he crumpled the candy wrapper in his right hand. He slowly looked up and stared at a particular white house down the road. The orphanage was looking peaceful and serene as it always does. John would hate to think something bad happening to it or any of its inhabitants because of someone sneaking off in the middle of the night or something. The last thing they need right now is more grief.

 

He pocketed the candy wrapper as he slowly made his way towards the sea of deserted houses in this part of the quarantine zone. He took a page off of Bane’s notes and meticulously covered up his tracks and footprints near the manhole before hopping onto the road itself. Once he had landed on the asphalt, he made his way uphill towards his kids, away from Gotham proper.

 

John passed the large green sign of “Meadowbrook” as he distanced himself further and further away from the city, heading deeper into the small rural patch of land southwest of Gotham. Situated in a forest of various species of trees, Meadowbrook was deemed in the newspapers as Gotham’s premier retirement village. It was supposed to house several small-scale manor type houses sprawled over a small forest at the edge of Gotham, with its seclusion and quiet being its biggest selling points. But with the infection attack, work on the property was permanently halted, with only less than a dozen houses erected within the land. More than half of the property was left untouched, making Meadowbrook into some sort of ghost town. And it was that reason why John thought Meadowbrook was the perfect place to relocate St. Swithin’s in.

 

The raven-haired detective had watched enough zombie apocalyptic movies in his lifetime to know that the city was a deadly place to live in should a zombie virus spread out. He realized that the best chance of survival lies in the countryside. Obviously since that was impossible, with the bridges burned down and all, John figured the best alternative was Meadowbrook. With the entrance of the property limited to a small stone bridge, defense was easy and manageable should the quarantine zone get fucked by the infected.

 

John took the entire orphanage with him the first chance he got and had them settle in one of the large houses in the area. He and Father Reilly created several alarm devices and traps for extra security. You know, just in case.

 

The wind picked up, chilling John to the bone. The man simply brushed it off as he continued up towards the white house at the top of the hill. He breathed a huge sigh of relief as he came face to face with the white Victorian home in front of him. John let out a small chuckle, one brought out by total exhaustion. Earlier during the day, he didn’t think he’d make it back. But lo and behold, the pristine large estate was standing in front of him, its wooden gate open as if welcoming him home.

 

_Home._

_If only…_

 

With a vigorous shake of the head, the detective quickly let go of the thought, deciding there was another time to worry about the matter. What mattered right now was getting his supplies to the kids as soon as possible.

 

Once John stepped inside the orphanage’s lot, he quickly maneuvered himself towards the right side of the land. He avoided walking along the main walkway at the center and the large oak tree at the far left side since there were traps set up along those areas. The detective jumped over a large plant box as he approached the foyer of the orphanage with much ease.

 

As soon as his feet hit the wooden floor of the outdoor porch, he took a few minutes to shake off the snow on his shoulders. Afterwards, he walked up towards the main door and knocked four times quickly, followed by four slow ones, and then ended with three fast knocks. He heard some scuffling noises behind the door and rough shouting here and there. John could have sworn he heard someone say the words “jerk” and “bite me” from within.

 

 _Uh oh. Father Reilly will not be pleased_ , John noted silently as he shook his head in amusement.

 

The sounds got louder towards the door before they finally stopped. John stood there silently in the cold before a click sounded out from the main door. A few seconds later, it slowly opened and a small, blonde boy with red glasses peeked out from behind the door.

 

“John!” the boy shouted with delight as he fully opened the door and engulfed John with a hug. The detective managed to crouch down in time as he felt the boy’s hands wrap around his neck.

 

“Elliot! What have I told you about opening the main door for strangers?” Father Reilly scolded the boy as he walked briskly from the kitchen.

 

“Told you so!” said a small boy beside Elliot. John looked at his right and saw a mousy looking boy in baggy clothes looking disapprovingly at Elliot. The red baseball cap on his head was a dead give away.

 

“Nice to see you too Tyler,” John said with a laugh as he let go of Elliot, took off Tyler’s cap and ruffled his hair.

 

“Heyyy… Stoooopppp!” Tyler pouted as he tried giving John a very dangerous glare, causing John to simply laugh some more.

 

“But it was John! And he did the secret knock anyways,” Elliot replied defensively at Father Reilly. He too pouted. Instead, this one was aimed at the much older man standing at the center of the living room.

 

“Still Elliot,” Father Reilly said sternly with controlled affection. “You know the rules. Only I can open the main door.” The elderly man looked Elliot dead straight in the eyes.

 

“Fiiiinnneee,” Elliot said with a huff as he crossed his arms against his chest. John forgot Elliot was one sassy boy.

 

“It’s fine Father,” John said as he patted Elliot’s head. “No one got hurt this time,” he added with a smile.

 

Reilly’s eyes softened at that. “Well anyway John how was it? You took longer than usual today. Did you run into any trouble?” he asked John.

 

The detective’s eyes darkened slightly, one that Father Reilly surely did not miss. John was about to tell what happened when he noticed two pairs of curious eyes looking up at him from the corner of his eye. He glanced down momentarily and found that both Elliot and Tyler were staring at him, the former’s arms swaying about without a care in the world. John’s eyes tilted oh so slightly upwards and saw Reilly gesturing with his head the direction of the kitchen.

 

John slid his rucksack off his shoulders and handed it to both of the boys. “Okay, why don’t you go into the kitchen and sort all the stuff I got? Father Reilly and I will just have a small chat before heading there,” John said with a smile. Both boys looked at each other with glee before grabbing the rucksack and running towards the kitchen.

 

As soon as both Elliot and Tyler were out of the room, Father Reilly called down the rest of the boys from down the staircase. “Hey boys! John’s back and he’s got supplies!” he hollered from the bottom baluster. No sooner had he finished the sentence did the rumblings of nearly a dozen footsteps reverberated throughout the house, followed by numerous voices speaking all at the same time.

 

“Oh boy! John’s here!”

 

“John!”

 

“Hey, stop pushing!”

 

“Man! It’s a good thing too, I’m hungry!”

 

“Pedro you’re always hungry!”

 

“Eric, you stepped on my feet! I’m gonna tell!”

 

“Tattletale!”

 

A sea of boys flooded down the staircase as all of them rushed towards John at the foyer. The detective took a few steps back and raised his arms in defense as the boys crowded around him and began tugging at him. Each one yanked John down and began telling him new stories and asking him new questions for a couple of seconds before being dragged into the opposite direction by another kid. John felt his arms were just about to snap from all the pulling and his ears about to bleed from the yelling. He just about managed to give Father Reilly a pleading look over the kids’ heads. Reilly just smiled and shook his head in amusement.

 

“Okay kids, let’s give John some time to rest. I’m sure he’s every tired,” Father Reilly said with a clap of his hands, causing the boys to stop and look at the elderly man. “Why don’t you guys go and help Elliot and Tyler with the inventory of the new supplies in the kitchen?”

 

The boys barreled down towards the kitchen, their shouting not ceasing one bit. As the last of the boys disappeared into the kitchen, John breathed a sigh of relief and mouthed a small thank you at Father Reilly across the hallway.

 

“Anytime John,” Father Reilly said as he approached John. “You all right? You’re looking a bit out of it. And I’m not talking about the obvious exhaustion,” he asked John worriedly as he watched the detective stretch his right arm.

 

“Before I get to it, do you have a first aid kit?” John asked as his face scrunched up from the wound in his right arm.

 

Father Reilly looked at John nervously before nodding. “Yeah, hold on. Why don’t you go and meet me in the study while I fetch it for you,” he told John as he went into the powder room to retrieve the item.

 

The detective took off his jacket and slowly walked towards the study on the left side of the house, drowning out all the shouting happening in the kitchen. He turned the doorknob and stepped inside Father Reilly’s study. Well study would be overdoing it as it only housed a small desk and a few measly books stacked in one corner. Still, it served its purpose, giving the elderly man his own space whenever he needed time away from all the boys.

 

The wooden chair dangerously creaked when John plopped on it with all his weight. He carefully placed his bandaged right arm on top of the table and looked at it. John couldn’t help but frown at the bloodstains present on the very thin, white cloth Bane wrapped his arm in. As he was just about to unravel the bandage off his arm, Father Reilly burst into the room.

 

The white medicine box nearly fell out of Father Reilly’s hands when he caught sight of John’s wound. Thank goodness he was able to catch it in time as he sandwiched it between his green plaid shirt and his belly. He managed to do all of this without taking his eyes off John. “John… don’t tell me you’re bit,” he said nervously.

 

“I’m not,” John said calmly. “I just scraped myself over an attack though,” he added grimaced.

 

“Attack? What attack?”

 

“I’ll tell you all about it Father, but first you need to shut the door.”

 

Father Reilly turned around and swiftly closed the door. John’s left hand was outstretched for the medicine kit. “What happened?” he asked as he handed the first aid kit to the younger man. He leaned against the door, still a bit wary of John’s wound. Also, he wanted to make sure none of his boys were eavesdropping on the other side of the wooden door.

 

“It was a _fucking_ disaster,” John blurted as he opened the medicine kit. From the corner of his eye, he saw Father Reilly stiffen slightly. John never openly cursed in front of the other man, knowing Reilly’s penchant for clean and respectable language. So the fact that he just uttered a curse word showed Father Reilly just how deadly serious he was.

 

“We were walking in the designated area when we got jumped by a dozen runners or more,” John explained as he began cleaning his flesh wound with cotton balls and disinfectant. “We weren’t prepared for it. During our initial reconnaissance, we didn’t get any reports of the infected in the area so naturally we traded off extra weapons for more bags. Suffice to say, we were blindsided and had to scramble for our lives. Got this nasty cut trying to escape the runners,” John added as he gently lifted his right arm slightly upwards. From the corner of his eye he saw a rooted and dreadfully concerned Father Reilly.

 

“Long story short, I’m the _only_ survivor.”

 

“Lord Jesus,” Father Reilly whispered, feeling light headed all of a sudden. John merely looked morosely at him. “Well I’m glad you escaped!” he told John, relieved that the detective didn’t manage to die… or worse, bit.

 

“Yeah, I was real lucky. I had hel-” John started before instinctively and immediately shutting up. Father Reilly did not need to know that Bane was the one who helped him get here. He figured the elderly man might have a heart attack if ever. “Why don’t we go check on the kids?” he asked as he stood up and handed Father Reilly the medicine kit.

 

“You sure you’re cut is okay?” Father Reilly asked skeptically, giving John’s newly bandaged arm a look.

 

“Yes, it’s just fine,” John lied. _Well it will be… In a day or two_.

 

The elderly man looked up from John’s wound and to his face. He searched John’s eyes for some sort of reassurance. The detective put on his best fake smile, one that he perfected back when he was still an orphan. It worked because Father Reilly soon stepped aside and opened the door to the hallway.

 

The kitchen table was neatly stacked with food when both men entered the room. The boys on the other hand were all over the place. Some were running around the table, others were fighting on top of the counters. Heck, two of them were wrestling under the kitchen table.  All of them were bickering who gets which candy or chocolate from the mix. John didn’t manage to retrieve a lot of sweets, so apparently the solution to handing this out was to fight over it. Only Alex, the little 9-year-old foreigner was sitting politely at the table. He looked up at John with a bright innocent smile when both he and Father Reilly entered the kitchen.

 

 _Well at least someone here is behaving._ John thought as he fondly looked at Alex. And John swore he heard Father Reilly making some sort of gurgling sound beside him. No doubt from the chaos.

 

“Boys!” John said sternly, his tone not quite a shout but loud and commanding enough to fill the room. Everyone immediately stopped and stared at him.

 

 _Honestly, it’s like I’m dealing with the Lost Boys from Peter Pan_.

 

“Can you please settle down and behave?” John asked, giving them a pissed off look. _Before Father Reilly has a heart attack._

 

The kids looked at one another then hung their heads in shame and embarrassment. All of them properly stood up straight and gathered at the kitchen table, with the kids sitting down on the chairs while the older ones stood behind them.

 

“Okay, now. I need you to cough up your goods on the table,” John lectured. He narrowed his eyes at the group when none of them followed suit. As soon as they saw John’s shifting gaze, every boy started emptying their pockets on the table.

 

“All of it,” he repeated with a steely gaze. And on cue more sweets were coughed up.

 

“Good. Now we’re going to divide the share of candies equally.”

 

John’s eyes scanned the boys’ hands for a particular piece of candy. Three packs of red Skittles soon hit the tabletop with a soft thud. The detective’s eyes zeroed in on the boy who just threw it. The boy’s long wavy brown hair was crammed inside his dark grey beanie as the boy looked on devastated that he had to give up the Skittles.

 

It was Trent, Tyler’s fourteen year-old brother. John couldn’t fathom it was Trent who was using the sewers just down the hill. He was too much of a good boy and a stickler for rules to even dare and disobey them. No, Trent couldn’t have done it. John was sure of that.

 

_On the other hand…_

 

John took his gaze off Trent and scanned the rest of the faces in the kitchen. There was one particular boy missing from the group. That boy was the eldest brother of both Trent and Tyler.

 

“Where’s Tanner?” John asked the room, before directing his gaze at Trent. The teenager must have realized where John was going with his line of questioning because he shrank into a closed off posture.

 

“Tanner went to trade some of our left over food for some gas,” Father Reilly answered beside John.

 

“Gas?” the detective echoed, not fully believing that nothing was afoul here.  

 

“Yes. We’re running low and we need it to cook so I had him go to town a few hours ago,” Reilly explained. When he noticed that John had a very disapproving stare, he added, “You know my back John. I can’t walk that far into town under this cold without it giving out, so I had him go instead. Tanner has been a good sport about it too. He’s been actually running some of the errands to town whenever my back acts up. He should be back in an hour or two.”

 

The detective just stared at Father Reilly. Picking a fight with the older man wouldn’t really solve anything. So he just relented. “Fine, fine,” he sighed, but not before giving Trent a sidelong glance. It’s not just a coincidence that the person most likely having the freedom to use the sewers unsupervised by Father Reilly is connected to someone adamant with the Red Skittles. He is after all, a detective.

 

“Okay, now that’s settled, why don’t we see what’s on the table and make dinner since it’s past six in the evening already,” Father Reilly clapped causing the entire kitchen to shout in agreement.

 

 

~

 

 

It was almost nine o’ clock in the evening. Normally, John would have left the orphanage long before then, but something was bothering him too much to leave.

 

Tanner hasn’t gone back home yet.

 

Father Reilly wasn’t worried when Tyler and Trent’s eldest brother hadn’t shown up during dinner. Both men opted to stay up so they could welcome him back into the house, but the old man’s back started acting up again that had him retreat upstairs to rest. That left John lying down on the sofa, alone in the dark along with his thoughts. He had in his hand a small baseball that was lying around. He began throwing it up in the air and catching it with one hand as a means to alleviate his boredom.

 

The baseball was halfway up in the air when a thought crossed his mind.

 

_I wonder how Bane is doing._

 

No sooner had that entered his mind, John caught the baseball in his hand and frowned.

 

_Why on earth am I thinking about him right now?_

 

He couldn’t explain it, but the mercenary sporadically entered his mind many times after their split in the sewers. None of them lasted for more than a few seconds, but still, it baffled him why his thoughts would even wander towards the masked terrorist. Sure, John was intrigued by Bane. That much he could admit. He just didn’t know why.

 

John shifted positions in the couch when he heard footsteps coming down the stairway. The detective’s gaze immediately shifted towards the entrance of the living room and saw that there was no light coming from the stairway whatsoever. John carefully and silently got down from the couch and crouched behind it. The lack of the lighting from the stairway told him that whoever was coming down the stairs was definitely trying to go by undetected.

 

As the footsteps drew closer, John sneaked a glance from behind the couch and saw Trent creeping in the dark.

 

_Well look at what we have here…_

 

Trent tiptoed his way across the living room. The boy would pause every now and then whenever one of the floorboards he was walking on would creak. John studied the teenager and saw that Trent was carrying of what appears to be a shopping bag. For what, he didn’t know. But he fully intended to find out as he silently crept behind Trent and followed the boy towards the kitchen.

 

John stopped at the kitchen archway and peeked around the corner. He saw Trent stuffing a number of items from the cabinets into his plastic bag.

 

 _What are you doing Trent?_ John asked quietly as he continued to watch the boy steal some of the new supplies he just delivered to the orphanage. _Why are you stealing those? And more importantly, to whom are you giving those to?_ The longer he watched Trent put items in the bag, the more his detective instincts were kicking in. Now, he was absolutely sure that Trent knows about the sewers.

 

The teenage boy slowly tied the shopping bag’s handles into a knot, oblivious to the fact that John was watching him from the shadows. Trent slowly closed all of the cabinet doors, taking extra care to avoid making any unnecessary noises. Once that was out of the way, Trent proceeded to the backdoor.

 

He was going outside.

 

In the dark.

 

Alone.

 

John could not and would not have any of that.

 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he firmly asked as he stood up and stepped inside the kitchen.

 

Trent let out a loud shriek as he dropped the plastic bag on the floor. The boy slowly turned around, face visibly pale from fright as he came face to face with the very furious detective.

 

“J... John.. What are… what are you-”

 

“Where do you think you’re going Trent?” John viciously cut him off. “And with that?” he gestured towards the bag at Trent’s feet.

 

Trent looked down at the bag then back to John as he tried to explain himself out of this mess. “I… uhh… well the thing is…”

 

When John realized this wasn’t going anywhere, he marched up to Trent and picked up the bag. “Where are you taking this?” he demanded the kid, as he got up right at his face. The boy simply whimpered as he turned his head away, doing his best to not look at John’s angry face.

 

“John? Is that you?” a voice called out from inside the living room.

 

Trent gasped as he recognized that voice. Father Reilly was awake and downstairs with them as the light in the living room was switched open.

 

John looked down at Trent with a hard look on his face. “Okay Trent, you and I are going into the living room and you can explain to me why you’re sneaking off into the night with a bag full of food,” he told the boy as he shook the plastic bag up in his hand. He walked back into the living room to face Father Reilly.

 

“Aah John, there you are!” Father Reilly said as he saw John emerge from inside the kitchen. “Did Tanner arrive yet? I’ve heard some sort of commotion from my room. I thought I’d check.”

 

“No, Tanner’s not here yet,” John replied. The detective jerked his head as a sign for Trent to come in the room. He watched Father Reilly’s expression shift into one that is confusion as he saw Trent emerge from the kitchen looking positively defeated.

 

“Trent? What’s going on?” Father Reilly asked, confused.

 

“I found Trent inside the kitchen looting food into this bag,” John said as he threw the contents of the plastic bag onto the living room coffee table. Canned goods, small packaged noodles, and a single pack of red Skittles piled on top of one another on the table. “He was about to head outside with these,” he explained further as he looked at Father Reilly for his reaction.

 

The elderly man had his mouth open in shock. He carefully turned his attention to the frightened boy beside John. “Trent… why… I mean… were you the reason why our supplies were disappearing?” he asked the boy calmly.

 

Trent had tears streaming down his face by this time. He simply nodded his answer, as he couldn’t get the words out.

 

“But… why?” Father Reilly asked, not understanding what could drive an innocent fourteen-year-old to steal from the very place he lives in.

 

“And where is Tanner?” John added as he crossed his arms against his chest, not liking the development of this story.

 

“I… had no choice!” Trent cried as he wiped his tears with his sleeve. “If I didn’t give them any food, they said they were going to burn down the orphanage!”

 

John and Father Reilly briefly looked at each other in alarm. The detective marched up to Trent and bent down to look at the boy straight in the eye. “Who is this ‘they’ Trent?” he asked, concerned. “You can tell me anything, I promise.”

 

“You don’t understand!” Trent shouted as he ran towards the pile of food John dumped on the table. “I need to give these to them right now or else they’re going to kill everyone!” he shouted hysterically.

 

“Trent, you need to calm down and tell us who’s blackmailing you,” John said calmly as he slowly walked up to Trent. He didn’t make more than two steps when something flew through the window, causing Father Reilly to cry out in pain afterwards.

 

“Father Reilly!?” John shouted in surprise as he turned around and saw an arrow piercing the elderly man’s shoulder. Blood was slowly dripping down the man’s shoulder as he grimaced in pain.

 

“Oh no! They’re here!” Trent cried as he stared outside the window.

 

“Trent! Stay away from the window!” John ordered as he pushed the boy backwards. He cautiously approached the window and peeked from one of the bottom corners. From beyond the wooden fence, John made out several figures in the dark. Some of them were carrying torches, while others had pitchforks and clubs of some sort.

 

 _Shit. Looters. Just fucking great,_ John thought with absolute disgust at the group beyond the fence.

 

“Hey little kid!” One of them shouted from the distance. “I thought we had an agreement? Your extra stash of food for your home’s safety? Well it’s already payback time and there’s no bag of food waiting for us in your fucking mailbox!”

 

John seethed in anger. _These fuckers are going down._

 

“It’s too late now kid. I’m afraid we’re going to have to teach you a little lesson, you piece of shit!” the guy shouted as he signaled his guys to attack.

 

“Trent! You escort Father Reilly upstairs now. Wake everyone up and head towards the attic. I’ll deal with these guys!” John ordered the teenager, his eyes never letting up from the men outside the window.

 

“But John-” a voice whimpered.

 

“Father Reilly, you need to go upstairs and take care of the kids. You’re in no position to fight!” John firmly said as he turned his head around to look at both of them. “Grab your first aid kit, patch yourself up as best as you can and then retreat to the attic with the kids.”

 

“John, you can’t take all of these men by yourself!” Father Reilly protested, his right hand gripping his left shoulder. He winced when he felt pain shoot up his shoulder, as the arrow was still lodged there.

 

“I’ll be fine. I promise!” John said with confidence.

 

Father Reilly looked at him with doubt before he allowed himself to be dragged away by a bewildered Trent upstairs. As soon as they were out of sight, John turned his attention back towards the looters outside. He watched as three of these men were charging at the house down the main pathway.

 

 _That’s right you dumb assholes. Come a little closer… Yeah that’s it!_ John’s eyes glazed with mischief as the three men started getting closer and closer to the house. _Any minute now._

 

“Aha!” John shouted triumphantly as he fist pumped in the air. The three men who were part of the first wave of attack suddenly fell down in the snow, disappearing beneath the ground. The hole he and the kids dug as a trap worked out beautifully! Those men wouldn’t be able to climb out of that chasm without a ladder or a rope.

 

 _Now that’s three down and four more to go!_ John said to himself as he studied the remaining looters outside the wooden fence _. Okay, I can deal with four._

 

“The fuck just happened!?” their leader screamed in frustration as three of his men seemingly vanished down into the ground. He growled as he pointed his torch at the orphanage. “Well don’t just fucking stand there! Burn the place down! And kill everyone!” he snarled.

 

“All right. Time to deal with the second wave!” John told himself as he grabbed the baseball on the coffee table. He quickly switched off all the lights on the ground floor and peeked at the small glass window at the front door. The second wave was heading down the yard, this time cautious on what they were stepping on. They were on the right side of the lot, nearing the big old oak tree on that side.

 

“You guys are making this way too easy,” John joked as he took off towards the rear entrance by the kitchen. On the way, he made sure to grab the baseball bat casually leaning against the wall inside the living room.

 

He zipped up his jacket and opened the door towards the backyard. Immediately, he crouched down and lied low, taking point to keep his back against the wall as much as possible. John carefully crawled along the rear porch as he listened to the looters so he could pinpoint their location. This was one trap that required exact timing and finesse.

 

_All right, where are you assholes?_

 

John stopped at one particular exterior corner of the house. He briefly stood up and retrieved a long, white rope tied to one of the columns nearby. He gripped it tightly as he crouched back down again. He only had one shot at this and he wouldn’t want to waste it. The sound of the looters were getting louder and louder, signaling the detective that they were getting too close for comfort. But there was something else that he was listening for.

 

“Shit. What the fuck did I just step on?” he heard one of the looters ask in the night as bells started ringing a few feet away.

 

_There it is!_

 

John stood up and pulled the rope down with all his might, causing a sizeable wooden pole to come crashing down from the oak tree and knocking two looters off their feet, out cold for sure. The detective glanced from behind the corner and saw that there was one looter on his feet. Lucky fucker was fortunate enough to duck at the very last minute.

 

_But not for long though._

John bounced the baseball in his hand before coming out of the corner, took aim and threw the ball right at the man’s head. It landed perfectly as it hit the looter straight on the head, dizzying him up a bit. The detective raced towards him, arms up with the wooden baseball bat. Once he was in range, he swung the baseball bat as hard as he could on the man’s head and knocked him out cold. The force was so strong it actually broke the bat in half.

 

The detective breathed heavily as he stopped and counted the number of bodies. _Three were down in the hole. Knocked another three right here... One more to go!_ John stood up straight, ready to pounce on the remaining member when he heard a clicking noise behind him.

 

“Don’t you fucking try anything!” threatened a voice behind him.

 

_Fuck._

 

It was their leader.

 

“Put your hands up in the air and turn the fuck around slowly.”

 

 _Damn_. John cursed as he dropped the broken baseball bat in the snow and followed the man’s orders. He slowly raised both his hands in the air and turned around. He saw a snarling bearded man, decked in dark black overalls aiming a crossbow at his head.

 

“You think you’re smart huh?” the looter smiled, showing off a few missing teeth in his mouth.

 

“Listen. There’s no need for any trouble here,” John said calmly. “Just put the crossbow down and let’s talk it over.”

 

“I ain’t stupid you dumbass!” the man laughed. “You think I can just let you go after what you did to my friends here?” he asked John angrily, jerking his head towards his fallen comrades. “Well tough luck sonny boy. Once I kill you, I am going to kill everyone of your little boys next for making a fool out of me and my fellas.”

 

John’s eyes gleamed with fury as he stared at the bearded man with immense vitriol. He grinded his teeth inside his mouth, annoyed that there wasn’t anything he could do to get out of this predicament. Even if he did manage to sprint off, the close proximity of the man’s crossbow meant that should the man ever fire it, he wouldn’t be able miss.

 

In other words, he was _screwed._

 

“Now say your prayers sonny boy!” the man laughed as he repositioned the crossbow at John’s heart. Before the man could pull the trigger, a huge wall of flame suddenly burst from behind them.

 

“WHAT THE HELL?!?” the bearded man shouted in surprise as he turned around.

 

Sure enough, a huge fire was burning brightly in the dark as screams for help and rescue filled the night. John’s eyes widened with shock as the hole the first wave of looters fell in was now engulfed in flames. He had no doubt those trapped inside would not survive judging from the size of the fire.

 

Once his mind finally registered just what was happening, his eyes traveled to the large figure beside it.

 

_Holy shit. It couldn’t be…_

_But no, it really is him…_

_Bane._

 

“Who the fuck are you!?” the looter screamed at the large man standing perfectly still beside the fire. The mercenary’s eyes were solely fixed on the leader. Bane was definitely not playing around. In fact, he looked unconditionally livid.

 

“You fucking killed them!” the bearded man screamed as he aimed his crossbow at Bane. The bastard was ready to fire at the lone mercenary.

 

“And you’ll be joining them,” Bane replied without a second to spare as he effortlessly threw his knife at the man, hitting him straight on the forehead. John gasped as he watched the man crumple down to the ground, lifeless.

 

“Fuck,” John whispered as he bent down and held on to his knees, his stomach doing a few somersaults. When he glanced up, he saw Bane walking casually up to him.

 

“Bane?” he asked, unsure of what the hell happened and what the fuck he was doing here.

 

Bane simply kept quiet as approached John. Once he was just about a feet or two away, he merely held up three fingers. “That’s three times I’ve saved your life.”

 

“ _John._ ”

 

 

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna apologize for taking this long to dish this out because it isn't my fault at all! Been super busy with work (had a 32 hour shift at work and more). Writing this nearly made it impossible (plus the fact that this was twice as long as my usual chapters) :( 
> 
> I am mortified though.
> 
> chasind.tumblr.com


	5. Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this fic is largely inspired by The Last of Us, please take a moment to listen to this wonderful track from the OST of the game: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v_LHa-8eipY (Does anyone know how to embed links here? I'm an HTML noob I'm afraid)
> 
> The song helps set the mood of the story and its setting. Give it a try! It's only 1 minute long.

“Ouch!”

 

“Sorry,” John apologized as he watched Father Reilly flinch from the pain. His treatment of the arrow wound wasn’t the best, but he really did try to stitch it up good. “It’s almost done though,” he comforted the other man as he continued to dab the fresh wound clean with rubbing alcohol. The elderly man let out a seething hissing sound from the stinging pain as John tried to wipe it clean off blood.

 

“How much longer?” Father Reilly asked before letting out a small yelp as he glanced over his shoulder to get a good stare at his wound and John. Judging from the tired eyes of Father Reilly, John deduced that the elderly man was at his limits.

 

“Just gotta clean it up well,” John finally answered as he tossed another set of blood soaked cotton balls on the wooden desk. It landed on top of a menagerie of other blood stained items that were too numerous to count. “We need to make sure your wound doesn’t get infected.”

 

Father Reilly exhaled. “Okay,” he replied wearily as he turned his attention back at front, away from John’s gaze. A deafening silence filled the room as John waited with bated breath if it was all right to continue. When Father Reilly didn’t say anything else, he decided to continue.

 

John quietly grabbed the gauze and stretched it out, ready to finally finish up on this little D.I.Y. surgery. As soon as he was about to put it on Father Reilly’s wound, the elderly man suddenly asked, “Were you ever going to tell me that Bane rescued you from that infection attack?”

 

John’s hands froze in midair with the gauze slowly fluttering in the wind. If he had his way, John would keep his strange connection to Bane to himself, for the time being. He figured that it wouldn’t really do him or the orphanage any good – especially in the current state of Gotham, where trust seems to be a fleeting quality.

 

Because really, the last thing he needs is to have Father Reilly and the kids lose faith and trust in him.

 

After all, all they have is each other now.

 

So he told the truth. “No,” he whispered before applying the gauze onto Father Reilly’s wound.

 

“Huh. Okay then…” Father Reilly replied, coming across surprised that John intended to keep that partially huge revelation a secret.

 

After the admission, an uncomfortable stillness once again hung between the two of them as John silently and carefully bandaged up Father Reilly’s wound. The detective was almost halfway done when he was interrupted again with another question.

 

“Care to share to me what happened then?”

 

Save for an audible exhale of breath, John didn’t miss a beat as he was bandaging the elderly man’s shoulder.  “When I was getting chased by runners, I fell over a fire escape stairway. On the way down, I scraped myself with something sharp before blacking out on the ground. Bane – ” John emphasized as he took the scissors from the desk to cut off the rest of the gauze. “Bane found me and rescued me from the runners. He patched me up; helped me fend off a few more infected; and got me here.”

 

“And the military simply allowed him to enter the quarantine zone?” Father Reilly asked incredulously.

 

“No. We took the sewers,” John answered as he grabbed the tape from the desk and carefully secured the end of the bandage onto Father Reilly’s back. “There… done,” he added as he stood up and placed the scissors and the remaining gauze back on the wooden desk.

 

After the procedure, Father Reilly swiveled his chair to face the detective. “The sewers? There’s a route down there?” he asked, bewildered.

 

“Yes there is,” he hesitated continuing, “And someone from the orphanage knew about it,” John said gravely.

 

“What!?” the elderly man shouted, standing up from the shock. No sooner had he stood up, he immediately let out a painful groan as he clutched his bandaged shoulder.

 

“Father, you need to take it easy,” John said as he guided the other man back down onto his chair. Father Reilly let out a few indecipherable groans as he sat back down on the chair.

 

“Explain,” Father Reilly demanded, brows furrowing in alarm.

 

John told Father Reilly everything. How he managed to discover a small piece of Skittles by the sewer entrance. How Trent was adamant on getting it during the skirmish earlier in the evening. How his suspicions about Trent’s involvement were proven true when looters attacked the entire orphanage.

 

By the time he was done, Father Reilly was vigorously massaging his temples. The elderly man was distraught on how he was not able to notice something was amiss with his kids. To be honest, John had never seen him looking so drained.  

 

“So you think Trent’s been going down the sewers?” he croaked, voice hoarse from fatigue. “’Cause if he has and something happened to him…” the elderly man trailed off, eyes getting misty at the thought.

 

“No I don’t think so,” John quickly reassured him. His heart tugged on a few strings, not used to seeing this devout man feel so helpless and hopeless. “The looters were probably using the sewers to go around Gotham undetected. I mean, if they were strolling around the quarantine zone freely, they’d be arrested on the spot.”

 

“Well that’s true,” Father Reilly replied wearily.

 

John knew that scenario would happen because even though Gotham got turned upside down by the infection and all hell pretty much broke loose, the quarantine zone established its own set of rules. They weren’t written on paper, but since the infection, there existed unspoken dos and don’ts that everyone knew by heart. The number one rule was that violence was not to be tolerated at all. The second, stealing was absolutely prohibited. And a number of several crimes followed that long list. If anyone were caught violating those acts, he or she would be exiled outside the zone to a possible fate worse than death.

 

Looters were a term used to describe those exiled for stealing. And it surprised John that they managed to enter the quarantine zone as far as Meadowbrook, considering it lay deep inside the zone. It was alarming because that meant that the quarantine zone wasn’t as safe as they initially thought it would be.

 

“Do you think we should tell the authorities?” Father Reilly asked, looking up at John for advice. “I mean.. if looters can come in here easily-”

 

“No,” John responded quickly.

 

“John…” Father Reilly muttered, slightly narrowing his eyes at the younger man. “Why not?”

 

“Because you can’t trust the military,” he unintentionally spat. When all he got was a concerned and confused look from Father Reilly, he decided to elaborate even further.

 

“Outside the quarantine zone, I saw them murder two innocent civilians in cold blood just because they were caught exploring outside. I’d hate for them to think what they would do if they found out that looters successfully infiltrated this area. They could declare martial law,” John explained, looking more and more glum as he talked.

 

Father Reilly hung his head as he massaged his temples in frustration and disbelief. “Shit. Even the quarantine zone is fucked up,” he hissed quietly.

 

The young detective had to blink a few times with his mouth agape, as he was not used to hearing the reverend cuss out so openly.

 

The sound of an alarm clock beeping in the barely lit room disrupted the two. Both John and Father Reilly glanced at the small Finding Nemo clock making a racket on top of the elderly man’s writing desk. John silently approached it, took one long, hard glance before fully shutting the alarm off.

 

“It’s almost midnight and Tanner isn’t back yet,” John said softly as he looked at the Nemo alarm clock as if it was the most interesting thing in the room. “We should talk to Trent. I think he knows where his brother is,” he said, glancing at Father Reilly from the corner of his eye.

 

The absence of Tyler and Trent’s older brother worried John. Especially when his supposed curfew was dinner time.

 

“Where’s Bane?” Father Reilly responded as he met John’s gaze.

 

John couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at the sudden change in subject. “He’s outside burying the bodies.” He narrowed his eyes and asked, “Why are you asking?”

 

Father Reilly sighed as he stood up slowly. “Okay, let me handle Trent. I’ll talk to him because you might be too rough on him. You,” he said, pointing a finger at John, “deal with Bane.”

 

John had to take a step back. “Deal with him? How am I supposed to do that?” he asked, confused. _What does “deal with him” even mean?_

 

Father Reilly simply shook his head. “I don’t know John. Make him go away or something. I don’t want him near the kids anymore,” he said tiredly as he waved his hand in the air. “Do you mind calling in Trent? I don’t think I have the strength or energy to walk just yet.”

 

John meekly nodded as he strode past Father Reilly and into the hallway. _Great. How am I supposed to tell a terrorist to fuck off now?_ He shook his head at the thought. The detective exhaled a breath before venturing off into the living room, looking for Trent.

 

“Trent! Father Reilly is… What on earth are you kids doing?” John asked the large group of kids all holed up near the window. Every one of them was staring, entranced by whatever it was on the other side of the glass.

 

When no one responded to him, he whistled out loud, catching the attention of every boy. “Okay, now that I’ve got your attention, what are you guys staring at?” John asked. “Are there more looters?”

 

“No,” one of the boys answered, looking at John dead straight in the eyes. “We’re just staring at Bane.”

 

That statement caught John by surprise. “Huh…” he murmured, crossing his arms against his chest. “You guys really shouldn’t be doing that. He’s very dangerous. He probably wouldn’t appreciate all of you staring at him.”

 

“Well, Alex doesn’t seem to think so,” another boy said with a frown.

 

“What?” John asked, uncrossing his arms.

 

“Alex is out there talking to him!” Elliot shouted as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

 

“Are you kidding me!?” John scowled as he stomped up to the window to see if it was true. Behind the glass, sitting on a small bench a few feet away from the entrance porch were Bane and a small boy wrapped in thick layers of clothes. From this distance, it was quite difficult to exactly pinpoint who the boy was, but a glance back at the group of boys beside him, John definitely noticed that Alex was the one missing.

 

“Okay, you guys stay here. I’m going to go get him,” John said as he grabbed his jacket from the couch. “Trent,” John said as he zeroed his focus on the fourteen-year-old boy in the middle of the group. “Father Reilly wants to talk to you in his study _now_.” He then hurried his way outside. The last thing he heard before stepping out into the cold was Trent grumbling, “Oh man…”

 

John trudged through the snow, feeling a little unease that a nine year old was outside sitting with Bane. If something bad happened to Alex, he was pretty sure Father Reilly himself would skin him alive.

 

He kept his eyes on the small, black haired boy sitting a few feet away. From his position, John saw that the little boy and Bane were talking.

 

_Considering Alex doesn’t know how to speak English… I wonder how that’s doing._

 

“Alex,” John called out once he was in earshot. His little greeting caught the attention of the small kid as he turned his face around and smiled at John innocently, as if what he’s doing wasn’t remotely dangerous at the very slightest. Once he was in front of the two, he asked again, “What are you doing out here Alex?”

 

“We were just talking John,” Bane answered beside the little boy. The masked man was also staring at John, this time with a different expression, one that John couldn’t exactly pinpoint.

 

“Yes, I can see that,” he bitched at Bane before turning to Alex. “I told you not to go outside Alex,” John sternly said as he bent down so he could be at eye level with the kid.

 

The little kid blinked at John before pouting. He then turned to Bane and whined, “ _Sabi ko sa iyo eh_ (See, I told you) _.”_

 

John didn’t understand a single word the kid said, but judging from the tone, it probably wasn’t anything good. The detective looked at Bane and apologized. “Sorry, he really doesn’t speak any English,” he said as he ruffled Alex’s hair as a peace offering.

 

Bane raised an eyebrow at John before turning his attention back to Alex. He leaned in towards the child, looked straight in the little boy’s eyes and said, “ _Pagbigyan mo na. Wala siyang alam_ (Give him a break. He doesn’t know anything) _.”_

 

Obviously caught by surprise, John’s head snapped towards Bane as Alex merely grumbled beside him. He caught Bane looking up at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. _What the fuck. He could actually talk to Alex?_ The detective stood up straight as he tried processing this little piece of information. His gaze shifted between the Bane and Alex as he desperately tried to form words in his mouth, but failing as he ended up closing his mouth on several occasions.

 

“What’s the matter _John_?” Bane asked slyly. John’s answer to Bane’s little quip was a glare masterfully aimed at the terrorist.

 

“You could speak Filipino?” John asked hotly.

 

“Obviously I can otherwise Alex and I wouldn’t be able to talk,” Bane replied, amused at the sight of John getting all flustered. The mercenary was having fun at this point and he certainly wasn’t about to let up. “If you knew how, you would know that little Alex here,” Bane added as he patted Alex affectionately on the head, “is very, _very_ cross with you.”

 

“What? Why!?” John retorted as he looked at Alex, not appreciating that the only person who managed to understand the little Filipino kid was a motherfucking terrorist.  That and the kid were supposedly pissed at him.

 

Underneath the moonlight, the small black haired boy pouted even more under at John’s gaze. _Well shit, Bane was telling the truth_.

 

“Alex here thinks you treat him too much like a baby,” Bane answered as he looked at John strangely, as if judging him.

 

_This is not happening. Bane is not giving me tips on how to deal with my kids._

 

Before John could even begin to think of a comeback, someone called his name from inside the house. The detective turned his head and saw Tyler and his trademark beanie poking from behind the entrance door.

 

“John!” Tyler called out again.

 

“What is it?” John shouted back.

 

“Father Reilly wants to talk to you!”

 

“What now?” John muttered to himself. He then turned to Bane and said, “Wait here. I’ll be back. Alex,” he gestured at the kid on the bench, “you’re going back inside _now_.”

 

The kid stared at John. Once he realized that the detective was serious, he straightened his face, jumped off the bench and dashed back to the orphanage. Both men watched the little kid disappear into the big house. As soon as Alex shut the door behind him, John looked at Bane dead on.

 

“Don’t go near my kids again,” The detective warned as he sauntered off to the house without waiting for a reply.

 

The absence of the cold, biting wind greeted John inside. He quickly took off his jacket and hung it on the nearby coat rack as he let out one long, wearied sigh. This certainly was turning to be a very taxing day on him, physically and emotionally.

 

He was about to head to Father Reilly’s study when he heard somebody sniffling from within the living room. Curious, John took a chance and peeked from the hallway. What caught his eye made him feel incredibly shitty.

 

Sitting on the sofa was little Alex crying his heart out. Beside him was Trent who had his arm around the little boy as he tried to console the bawling kid. All the other boys were huddling around the sofa asking Alex what was wrong and taking turns comforting him. Alex, of course responded in Filipino and none of them understood what he was saying, which made the poor kid cry even harder.

 

John frowned at the scene. He was sure he was the reason why Alex was crying right now. After his talk with Father Reilly, he made a mental note to sincerely apologize to the boy. He never did intend to make him cry after all.

 

The detective quietly crossed the hallway and when he was just outside the door of Father Reilly’s study, he knocked softly. When the elderly man beckoned him to go in, he slowly turned the knob and stepped inside. “What’s wrong?” he asked the other man who was sitting on his chair and nervously tapping his finger on top of the desk.

 

“Trent told me where Tanner went to,” Father Reilly said quietly. He stopped tapping his finger and looked directly at John’s eyes. “John, he went to join The Bats,” he stated nervously.

 

“Wh- what?” John stammered, not wanting to fully grasp what the elderly man just said.

 

“He left John. He’s with The Bats now,” Father Reilly said, distraught.

 

“But that’s not possible! The Bats aren’t inside the quarantine zone. They’re over at the north island!” John explained hastily.

 

_Shit. This isn’t happening._

 

“Trent said that Tanner had been talking to someone. They could have a recruiter inside here and they ship them off to their main headquarters up north.”

 

“Shit. That area is full of infected!” John shouted, not liking where this was heading. “Are The Bats so fucking desperate that they recruit fucking children?!” he snarled.

 

“John,” Father Reilly said as he stood up. “We need to get Tanner back. He’s just a kid. He could get killed _or worse!”_ the elderly man cried.

 

The detective approached the hysterical man and reassured him, “I promise I will get him back Father. Or I will die trying. I’m not going to allow Trent or Tyler to lose a brother.”

 

Father Reilly looked at John, appreciative of the offer. “Thank you John.”

 

He was all they could count on now more than ever.

 

“We’re all we got,” John tenderly smiled as he patted the elderly man on his good shoulder. The detective noticed that Father Reilly’s gaze suddenly dropped to the floor. Something was up.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

 

“There’s one other thing though,” Father Reilly said as he wrestled out of John’s grip. “I’m thinking of moving the boys away from Meadowbrook.”

 

The unexpected surprise caught John totally off guard. “Why?” he asked, his eyes seeing red.

 

“It’s not safe here anymore John. The looters know where we live and attacked us. What if there are more of them? What if they attack again when you’re gone, searching for Tanner?” Father Reilly asked hotly.

 

“But that’s not going to happen,” John said, exasperated.

 

“How are you sure?!” the elderly man retorted as he started walking around in circles. “I don’t want to risk it John. We need protection and the only way we’re going to get that is if we’re around a large group of people.”

 

“What happens when an infection attack happens in the zone?”

 

“Then we’ll deal with that then John. That hasn’t happened yet, but a looter attack did and I don’t want to go through that again.”

 

John stayed quiet as he listened to Father Reilly’s explanation. He had a point but there seemed to be something else. “This is about Bane isn’t it?” he asked, interrupting the elderly man halfway.

 

The accusation caused Father Reilly to stop in his tracks. He looked at John who had an intense smoldering gaze. John surely saw past his bullshit. “Yes… well partly anyway. I don’t want to be ambushed by his merry band of mercenaries either.”

 

“That’s not going to happen,” John said seriously.

 

“John. He’s the reason why Gotham is in this mess to begin with.”

 

“But he just saved the orphanage!”

 

“Which I am _grateful_!” Father Reilly countered. “But I am not comfortable with him knowing where we live. Who knows down the line, God forbid, he decides to attack the quarantine zone?”

 

“If he wanted to, he would have done that by now,” John said through gritted teeth, fists tightly clenched.

 

Father Reilly leveled John’s intense stare with one of his own. “John. I’ve made up my mind. I am still the kids’ legal guardian and this is what I say we’re going to do.”

 

_Being legal guardian doesn’t mean shit anymore,_ John wanted to say but decided to reel that comment back in. The last thing he wants right now was to fight. He’s _too_ fucking tired for that. “How am I supposed to find you then?” he asked in the end.

 

“I’ll find a way to leave a note for you in your apartment,” Father Reilly answered. “A note only you would be able to find. You’ll figure it out. You’re smart.”

 

John broke his gaze from Father Reilly, relinquishing the battle and admitting defeat. “Fine,” he muttered.

 

The sound of the Nemo alarm clock ringing signaled that it was now midnight and that it was time for John to head back to his apartment. “I should go,” he whispered, exhaustion now taking full control of his body.

 

“Okay. You stay safe John. I mean it,” Father Reilly said as he lifted a finger to scold him.

 

“I always am though,” John replied back with a smile as he gripped the doorknob with his right hand. When Father Reilly’s gave him a dubious look, he had to rectify his statement just a bit. “Well most of the time.”

 

The elderly man narrowed his eyes slightly at John’s poor excuse for humor. “I’m gonna find my Bible and pray for you. Just in case,” he said, before rummaging through the stacks of books lined up neatly in his study.

 

John shook his head with amusement as he stepped outside to the hallway. _Right… now I gotta say goodbye to the kids._

 

The detective made his way to the living room and stopped almost so suddenly when he saw Bane sitting on the sofa and all the boys huddling around him.

 

_What the fuck? I thought I told him to stay away from the boys!?_

 

Overcome with shock, John seethed with uncontrollable anger as he stomped his way inside the living room. “What are you doing in here?” he demanded the mercenary, flashing him one fucking dangerous glare.

 

“Oh John!” Tyler ran up to him. The small kid tugged John’s pants, causing John to look down at the boy. “He made Alex stop crying!” he said happily as he pointed at Bane.

 

“Yeah!” Elliot chimed in. “He’s the only one who can talk to him!”

 

“Okay fine,” John said, giving up the fight of reasoning with the children. The kids probably forgot that Bane’s a terrorist and is somewhat responsible for Gotham’s destruction.

 

He couldn’t blame his boys though. There was something about the masked man that transfixed him. Like there was more to the man behind the monster. He wouldn’t say that Bane was safe or trustworthy because let’s face it, at the end of the day, he’s still a cold-blooded murderer. But there was something about him that made John’s curiosity go into overdrive, which to the young detective spelled trouble.

 

John’s eyes wandered through the sea of boys, noticing how everyone was slightly happier now. When he caught the long brown locks of Trent, he remembered what he came here to say and do. The young detective cleared his throat, trying to get the kids’ attention. What he had to say was important and he needed everyone in the room to listen very carefully.

 

“Guys, okay… There’s no easy way for me to say this,” John started as he slowly bent down and placed his hands on his knees for balance. “But I’m going to leave…for now. And it’s going to take me a while to come back.” He looked at Trent to fully communicate where he was going with this conversation. Trent merely responded by blushing and staring down on the floor from embarrassment.

 

“Why?” Elliot whined, putting his hands on his hips in annoyance. “You just came back with food!”

 

Before John could respond, a small curly haired kid carrying a small blanket stepped up to him and interrupted him. “Ya John! You said youz sleep over!” he murmured before sucking on his thumb as tears started trickling down his rosy cheeks.

 

“Aww Arthur… Don’t give me that. Come here!” John said sadly as he squatted down, reached out to the curly haired kid and placed him on his lap. “Listen. Ssshh… Hey, don’t cry,” he whispered as he gently wiped the kid’s tears away. “I gotta go because I need to pick up Tanner.”

 

Arthur looked at John strangely as he briefly took out his thumb from his mouth. “Why? Wherez Tanner?”

 

“Tanner is in a really bad place with some really bad people right now,” he told Arthur before looking at the rest of the boys. “I promised Father Reilly I’d bring him back safe and sound.”

 

The younger kids looked absolutely terrified, put off by the fact that John mentioned the word ‘bad’ several times in one sentence. On the other hand, the slightly older ones merely frowned. The detective had a hunch they knew where Tanner really went off.

 

Alex stood up from the floor and approached Bane who was pretty much quiet the entire time. “ _Sasamahan mo ba siya_ (Will you go with him)?” the little Filipino kid asked Bane with big puppy dog eyes.

 

Bane didn’t answer back. Instead, he looked at John for his reply. John of course didn’t understand any word Alex just said so he simply shrugged. “What did Alex say?”

 

The terrorist briefly glanced at Alex. The little boy’s big innocent eyes caught Bane off guard. “He asked me,” he said before turning his attention back to the detective. “If I was going to accompany you.”

 

“What?” John asked not a second later. Before he could get any word in, the entire living room was suddenly engulfed by a myriad of boys shouting. Arthur bounced off his lap as he joined the other boys jumping around the room.

 

“Yeah! He needs to definitely go with John!”

 

“They’re going to be unstoppable! No zombie is gonna stand against them!”

 

“They’re going to get Tanner back in no time!”

 

“Oh man, it’s going to be like a videogame! This is so fucking cool!” (John took note who openly cursed in front of the small kids so he could scold him later)

 

“John! You need to let Bane go with you!”

 

“Yeah, it’ll be safer when you’re together!”

 

“Bane, you have to promise to protect John!”

 

“What?” Bane asked out loud when all the kids suddenly had their focus on him. He had to scratch his bald head in confusion as he creased his eyebrows. He was not able to follow everything that has been said in the last ten seconds since every boy was talking over the other.

 

“You need to promise to protect John!” Elliot said, hands again on his hips. John’s gaze traveled downwards and saw that the little blonde kid was tapping his foot against the hardwood floor.

 

_Someone is getting sassy._

 

When the detective looked up again, he saw Bane was staring back at him. The creased eyebrow told him that Bane was at a loss on what to do. To be honest, John was too. The thought of Bane accompanying him to rescue Tanner never crossed his mind. But with all the shit that has happened to him lately and Bane’s track record with saving his ass, he wasn’t opposed to the idea. With his thoughts drifting to Clickers, John was now more leaning to having Bane travel with him through his journey. That is, if the other man wanted to. Because the underlying fact was he didn’t know what Bane’s true motives were.

 

At the back of his mind, John knew without a doubt that Bane didn’t just escort him back to the orphanage without some hidden agenda. He’d be a fool to think otherwise. He needed to know what he was doing in the quarantine zone. Maybe traveling with the terrorist, John would get his answer.

 

“Bane! Promise us!” another boy prodded the seated man, this time Alex. Everyone had to take a moment to blink and process that Alex just spoke English for the first time since he arrived in the orphanage.

 

The larger man looked at John for some sort of sign. Any facial expression or twitch to judge whether or not the detective was onboard with the idea. But the younger man was fully impartial because John was taken aback by the fact that Bane, Gotham’s most wanted was asking him for fucking permission.

 

A nonchalant shrug of the shoulders was the only answer Bane got, one that clearly meant, “It’s up to you.” Bane just nodded at the recognition then turned his attention back to the group of kids. “I promise,” he said gently – or as gently as his mask allowed him to be.

 

The group of kids were pleased at that as most of them (especially the little ones) jumped around for joy.

 

“Okay kids, settle down. Settle down,” John demanded as he shushed the boys down. “Bane and I need to leave now,” to which a collective sad sighs responded back. “But first, Alex… come here,” he said as he beckoned the little kid towards him.

 

The small black haired boy stared at John, tense and afraid. When Bane gently nudged his back, he slowly dragged his feet towards the young detective as he kept his left hand covering his mouth in fright. Once he reached John, the man engulfed the little boy in a hug, surprising the shit out of the kid. “I’m sorry for being mean,” he whispered in the boy’s ear before breaking the hug to smile back at the boy.

 

Alex ‘s eyes started to water and for a second John thought he did something wrong again, but was pleasantly surprised when the boy burst into a huge smile and hugged him again. The detective shook his head in amusement as he patted the little boy’s back, noticing that Bane and the rest of the kids were staring back at them. John slowly and carefully wiggled out of Alex’s grasp. “Okay, time for us to go. We need to get ready.”

 

“Your arm is not yet fully healed yet,” Bane pointed out.

 

John rolled his eyes at the larger man. “I know that. We’re going to rest and resupply first before we head off outside the quarantine zone,” he said as he went to the hallway to get his jacket.

 

“And where will we do that?” Bane asked flatly, following John’s footsteps.

 

The detective zipped up his jacket before staring at Bane. “My apartment.”

 

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Long update. Sorry for that. Real life has been shitty to me lately. 
> 
> A few other notes:
> 
> I really wanted Alex to be German or French, but I don't know squat on how to speak any of those languages and I really don't trust Google Translate with my life. Instead, I decided to just make him Filipino because well I am Filipino and I'm 1000% confident I wouldn't be able to screw that up. Also, I made sure to put translations of their short exchange since I don't want you guys out of the loop and guessing what the hell they were saying. 
> 
> On that note, my country has been ravaged by terrible typhoon, Haiyan and there's supposedly an estimated 10000 casualties. All I'm asking is if you can take a moment to offer a prayer for us. I would be so grateful. 
> 
> Oh, and follow me on Tumblr yeah? chasind. tumblr.com


	6. John's Apartment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta-ed. Ignore all mistakes, I command you.

John fumbled with his keys as he surveyed the hallway. His eyes frantically scanned the darkly lit, moldy corridor looking for anyone that might be lurking nearby. At this hour in the morning, he wouldn’t take it past for someone to be moving about inside the building. It has become commonplace for people in the quarantine zone to be out and about during these questionable hours after all. People would make black market dealings, smuggle in supplies, and conduct several underground meetings during these hours, all away from the prying eyes of the military.

 

John would perfectly know. He’s been part of some of those activities himself.

 

And the last thing he needs right now is for someone to accidentally spot him technically hiding a wanted criminal.

 

Just as his front door unlocked, John was greeted by the sudden sound of footsteps nearby. The detective’s eyes widened in panic as he scrambled, alarmed from the sudden intruder in the dark. He hastily pushed Bane into his apartment all the while trying to pinpoint the location of the footsteps.

 

His moving of Bane, or rather his _attempt_ to moving Bane came off as futile. The mercenary was built like an ox, so forcibly moving him proved to be a rather difficult and quite impossible affair. Luckily for John, Bane understood the severity of the situation both were in as he silently slid inside the detective’s apartment. Once he was sure that the masked man was inside, the detective followed suit, quickly turned around and shut the door behind him. In a flash, John locked and bolted his door shut. After that, he then pressed his ears against the wooden door and listened.

 

The detective’s paranoia rose in tune with the sound of the footsteps out in the hallway. The louder they got, the more sweat formed at his brow. The military wasn’t past breaking down doors and storming in homes unannounced. If the safety of the quarantine zone was put into the question, they’re quite capable of really anything. And if the person lurking outside in the shadows was indeed part of the military and he or she decided to storm inside John’s apartment to question him, he was well… fucked.

 

Not because he’d be arrested or anything since he was sure Bane would likely dispose of the person in the snap. But rather because he’d have the burden of disposing the body somewhere.

 

John’s breathing slowly went back to normal as the footsteps started to quiet down. Once it was gone entirely, he leaned his forehead against the door in relief. “Shit that was close,” he muttered to himself before reveling in the silence of his apartment.

 

Silence.

 

 _That’s odd._ John thought as it finally registered in his head that it was dead silent in his apartment. Normally, Bane would make some sort of preachy or condescending remark by now. Instead, it was the unnerving quiet of the walls that greeted him back. John slowly stood up straight and turned around. He found Bane standing at the center of the living room, carefully surveying his apartment.

 

If you told him that in his lifetime, he’d be harboring a terrorist inside his apartment, John would have probably laughed at your face. But stranger things have happened – hell, there were motherfucking zombies prowling the streets of Gotham for crying out loud. Hiding a terrorist in his home was merely a miniscule thing.

 

When he noticed that Bane wasn’t letting up sightseeing his room anytime soon, he asked, “Is there anything wrong?” before turning on the light. As soon as he did, Bane paid even more attention towards the room.

 

The larger man stopped and looked at John. “Nothing is wrong… Your home is quite beautiful,” he said in awe.

 

The detective had to blink, not really sure if he heard that correctly. _Beautiful? You’ve got to be kidding me!_

 

Bane’s comment struck him unexpectedly that he couldn’t help but evaluate his apartment himself. _Beautiful?_ Why his apartment was anything but. Since the infection began, any form of luxury was thrown out of the window. Now, people’s priorities all boiled down to the basic necessities: food, water, clothing, and shelter. John didn’t have time or the energy to look for a grand and wonderful abode. This one bedroom apartment was pretty much already a steal in these dark times.

 

“It is cozy,” Bane’s mechanized voice added to which John simply snorted.

 

“Yeah, well, this is home,” John finally replied as walked to the left towards his kitchen – well if you could call it a kitchen since he didn’t have a stove. All he really had was an old refrigerator and a microwave.

 

_Just like college eh John?_

 

He carefully placed his gun and his rucksack on top of one of the counters and went to the fridge. Once opening it, his dark eyes scanned its contents before letting out a small disappointed sigh.

 

_Okay… a few pieces of fruit and cheese. Just… great. These aren’t enough for the trip up north to rescue Tanner._

 

“Fuck,” he growled under his breath as he closed the refrigerator.

 

“Problem John?”

 

The sudden intrusion of sound startled the young detective. He turned around and saw Bane standing a foot away, looking down on him with curiosity.

 

“Jesus, don’t do that,” John hoarsely told Bane as he flashed the other man a glare.

 

Bane simply ignored that last statement. “Is there anything wrong?” he asked once again, voice calm and controlled.

 

“Nothing’s the matter.”

 

“ _John_.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong.”

 

“Don’t make me hurt you John.”

 

 _God. I hate it when he does that_. John closed his eyes and gave a defeated sigh. He quietly opened the fridge door all the way. “There’s not enough food for our trip up north.”

 

Bane shifted his gaze towards the contents in the fridge and studied them. After a minute or two, he faced John. “That’s enough to last for only about two to three days.”

 

“I know,” John said grumpily as he slammed the fridge door in spite.

 

“I’m surprised a man of your resources barely has food to sustain himself for the rest of the week,” Bane told him.

 

“Yeah well, my ticket for more food disappeared yesterday in the ambush,” John replied back, tone harsher than usual. “Look Bane,” he started. “I’m too tired to do question and answer with you right now. Can we just do this later when there’s actual daylight outside?” he asked, glaring at the other man. _Because I can’t stand your judgmental shit right now._

 

The mercenary simply looked at John and then walked away. “As you wish,” he said as he proceeded towards the living room and lied down on the floor.

 

 _What the fuck are you doing now?_ John thought with a groan as he followed Bane to the center of his apartment. “What are you doing?” he asked, confused and irritated.

 

Bane turned his head towards John. “I am preparing for sleep.”

 

“Yes I can see that, but there’s a sofa right there,” John said as he pointed towards the couch on the opposite wall.

 

“That is much too small for my frame,” Bane replied, looking at John as if he was crazy to assume such a thing.

 

“It’s a sofa bed.”

 

“What?”

 

John leveled Bane a look of his own before going over to the sofa. He reached behind it and pulled down on the lever. Grumpily, he then walked back to the front, bent down and pulled out the bed from underneath until it was fully extended. He clapped his hands free from dust before turning around to face Bane who was now on his feet.

 

There was an awkward moment of silence after that. Bane simply looked strangely at his sofa, which John found really strange. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a sofa bed before?” John joked sarcastically.

 

That comment from John caught Bane’s attention as his attention flickered towards the young detective. “No I haven’t,” he answered very matter-of-factly.

 

 _Huh… Well… that’s interesting._ John thought as he looked at Bane with renewed interest. And John could have sworn Bane looked away from him after admitting that fact.

 

“You should get your rest now” Bane told him, still looking away.

 

_Is he embarrassed?_

_Wait… Does he even get embarrassed?_

 

When he noticed that the larger man refused to look at him any longer, John took that as a cue to leave. “Okay, but we’ll talk first thing tomorrow morning about how we’re going to the north island. I know you probably already have a plan, but I would like to know about it before we go flying first into dangerous territory _again_ ,” he said as he walked past Bane towards his bedroom.

 

As soon as John reached his door, he opened it and stepped inside. When he turned around to close his door, he caught Bane staring back at him yet again. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up under the wolfish gaze of the mercenary. There was something in the man’s eyes that struck him. He didn’t know what it was, but John definitely felt a little buzzing inside him. And in that moment, he regretted foolishly leaving his gun at the kitchen table.

 

_Well too late now… You better hope he doesn’t barge in your room in the middle of the night._

 

The detective shook off the feeling as he nodded at Bane before silently closing his door and locking it shut. As he went to his closet to get a change of clothes, he could have sworn he heard a mechanical sounding “Goodnight” from behind his bedroom door.

 

 

~

 

 

John woke up with a jolt as he suddenly sat up straight and started panting like a rabid dog.  Sweat fell down from his forehead as he tried to calm down his rapid breathing and heartbeat.

 

“It was just a nightmare John. Just a nightmare…” he muttered to himself in between breaths.

 

 _Yeah, the same nightmare you’ve been having for the last few weeks._ His mind interjected. _A nightmare that ended up having all your orphanage kids turn into infected and eating you alive_.

 

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself as he buried his sweaty face in his hands as an attempt to calm down. He took a whole minute of slow breathing to relax. When his breathing finally slowed down to normal, he raised his face only to be blinded by a small streak of sunshine permeating from the curtains.

 

From instinct, he immediately squinted his eyes as he held up a hand to try and shield himself from the light. _What time is it?_ He asked himself as he glanced at the clock on his bedside table. Bright red numbers merrily greeted him back. _Great. It’s almost noon._ _Guess I must have been more tired than I thought._

 

John positioned his head away from the light as he begrudgingly placed his feet on his wooden floor. As soon as his feet made contact with the floor, his stomach grumbled in response. Even though his food supply was already limited, he still needed to put some fuel into his body. Most especially considering he’d be traveling to the north island, which given the circumstances can be compared to climbing Mount Everest.

 

The detective took a brief moment in front of his cracked full-length mirror and debated whether it was all right to face Bane in just t-shirt and sweatpants. Once that thought entered his mind, he took one long hard look at his reflection. _I can’t believe I’m actually fretting over my wardrobe for Bane of all people!_

 

Deciding to just fuck it, John turned the doorknob slowly and peeked from behind the door. The last thing he wanted was to see Bane doing something anything remotely deplorable in his home. A cautious (sneaky) approach seemed like the best option.

 

He found the man sitting down Indian style at the center of the living room, his back turned facing John. He couldn’t help but stare as Bane had his trench coat off. It was the first time he was able to see in broad daylight the other man’s physique up close. Bane was wearing some sort of vest, leaving his shoulders exposed. John took note of all the mercenary’s bulging muscles.

 

_Jesus Christ. That body._

 

As John was busy admiring Bane’s physique, he noticed that the other man was fussing with something in front of him. From behind his bedroom door, the detective didn’t really get quite a good look of what it was. Curiosity got the better of him, so John stepped out into the living room as quietly as possible. He then tiptoed his way up to the sitting mercenary as he tried to sneak a peek of what exactly was Bane so preoccupied with. Upon closer inspection, he found out that the terrorist was studying his hand drawn map of the sewers that was sprawled out open.

 

“If you’re going to sneak up on me detective, you’re going to have to do better than that,” Bane suddenly spoke up, not even bothering to turn around.

 

_The hell?_

 

“How’d you know?” John asked dumbfounded as he walked around Bane’s figure and crouched down, the map separating them from each other. His wooden planked floor didn’t squeak and he was sure his door didn’t emit a sound either, so he was surprised that Bane still managed to take notice of his presence.

 

Bane responded by pointing at John’s television. “It wasn’t hard. I saw your reflection on your television screen.”

 

John followed Bane’s finger. “Oh… I see.”

 

For a second there, he totally forgot about his television. Then again, the TV didn’t really work anymore so you can’t really blame him for that.

 

Runners attacked the local television stations on the third day of the infection and since then, they couldn’t get a signal on any of the television screens. Telephone and cellular phone lines were pretty much the same. Gotham was pretty much isolated from the outside world now.

 

“Tell me _John,_ ” Bane inquired, eyes still on the TV. “Why do you keep the television when there are no channels to watch from?”

 

“Because it’s familiar,” John replied without missing a beat. Bane must have not been expecting that because he then turned his attention to him and listened some more. “Somehow looking at that makes me remember when Gotham was still normal. A time wherein there weren’t any runners or clickers prowling the streets.” John turned his attention to his television, his eyes softening as he reminisced. “Staring at it makes me think there’s still hope – that someday, Gotham can go back to the what it once was,” he finished, looking at Bane.

 

Both men held each other’s gaze for a few seconds before Bane finally broke it off by looking down at his map. “How nostalgic,” he murmured.

 

“Or stupid,” John sighed.

 

“It is never too stupid to hope John,” Bane countered.

 

An awkward silence befell the two, each one not knowing how to proceed over this little intimate conversation. John wasn’t sure why he divulged his dream towards his supposed to be enemy.

 

_Maybe I really am losing it… Or maybe I’m just desperate for some human interaction…_

 

“Why are you still here Bane?” John whispered softly as he looked down at Bane’s map, noticing that there were new red marks on it. Somehow during their little exchange, his hunger disappeared for the time being.

 

“I promised that I would aid you in rescuing this boy of yours,” Bane answered as he traced his thick finger across the map. The mercenary furrowed his brow in annoyance over such a trivial and obvious question.

 

“No,” John quickly added. The ferocity of his voice startled Bane that he had to stop and refocus his attention at John. “I meant why are you still here in Gotham? You said before that Gotham needed some sort of reckoning… Don’t you think you’ve accomplished your mission already?”

 

“My mission is not yet complete.”

 

“Your mission of destroying Gotham?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Haven’t you destroyed it enough? I mean what more can you ask for? Gotham is barely surviving on its own! You’ve managed to wipe out more than half of the population already!” John shouted in indignation as he stood up and towered over the man.

 

Bane merely narrowed his eyes at John, sizing the detective up from head to toe before shaking his head. “You are too young and too naïve to understand this now _John Blake_.”

 

John narrowed his eyes as well. _He’s hiding something. I just know it._

 

John was about to fight back with more words only to be interrupted by large volumes of shouting coming outside from the street. The detective marched his way up to the window and looked to see what was going on. Just outside the other apartment building, across his own, a tank was parked right in front of it. A taped perimeter was put up just in front of the main entrance as armed military men stood in front of it. Beyond the perimeter, a legion of people huddled together protesting and shouting at the military. A second later, the main door burst open as five armed soldiers dragged two people outside into the street. John couldn’t see who it was since they had potato sacks placed on their heads. He watched the soldiers haul those two up into their tank as the mass of onlookers cried out in frustration.

 

“Trouble in paradise?” Bane inquired from behind him.

 

The detective didn’t find that remotely funny as he turned around and glared daggers at the larger man.

 

“It was a fair question,” Bane replied, unperturbed.

 

The sound of shouting immensely got louder behind John. He looked down and saw that the soldiers were now trying to contain the group of people by firing bullets up in the air. That act of intimidation worked as everyone suddenly scattered, screaming at the top of their lungs.

 

“So John, do fill me in. The suspense is killing me,” Bane said sarcastically. Though judging from his relaxed position on the floor and the flatness of his voice, he seemed like he could honestly care less.

 

“The military just arrested two people across the street,” John answered as he walked back towards the center of the room.

 

“Aah,” Bane mused as he tilted his head backwards in thought.

 

“They covered their heads with potato sacks,” John said as he mimicked the action of putting a bag on his head. “It’s like they were common criminals. Like they were going to be executed…” He whispered to himself before looking at Bane with apparent disgust in his eyes.

 

The mercenary studied the detective’s expression, noting that there was still much John needed to learn to survive in this age. “Tell me something John… Back in the orphanage, why didn’t you kill those men?” he asked, looking directly at John’s eyes.

 

“What?” John replied, not sure if he heard that question correctly.

 

“Those looters. Why didn’t you kill them? After all, they threatened to finish off the entire orphanage.”

 

“Because I’m not a killer,” John said, appalled at the thought of actually killing someone. “I try to not resort to bloodshed if necessary. I’m merely looking out for my boys and nothing more. I was going to hand them over to the military, but you killed them!”

 

“Yes I did,” Bane replied, not sure where John was going with this. “And I would do it again as they would have otherwise killed you and your boys. You need to realize that it’s you against the world now John. Sooner or later, you’re going to _have t_ o kill _actual human beings_ to survive this cold winter.”

 

He knew that of course. John was not stupid. He knew that it was kill or be killed now. That it was every man for himself. That morals needed to be thrown out the window. But he didn’t want to. Somehow the notion of not killing humans was the only shred of humanity he had left. And he was desperate to hold on to that as much as possible.

 

The grumbling of his stomach interrupted his silent contemplation. John blushed a little when he realized that Bane heard that.

 

“You should get some food in your stomach,” Bane noted, entertained over this little embarrassing display.

 

“Right,” John softly said as he slowly walked to his kitchen. _I think I have some extra pieces of bread and some instant ramen tucked in here somewhere._ “Do you want something to eat?” he called out to Bane as he rummaged through his kitchen cabinets only to momentarily stop and wonder just how the hell Bane eats with that mask on his face. _Does that even come off?_

 

“I appreciate the concern but I have already eaten,” Bane called out a few feet away.

 

“What?” John said in surprise. He peeked from behind one of the cabinet doors and asked, “You have?!”

 

“Yes I have. But do not be alarmed,” Bane said as he put up a hand. “I did not take any of the food in your kitchen. I simply ate what I had brought along with me.”

 

 _Brought along? In that?!?_ John asked himself as he stared at Bane’s trench coat neatly placed on top of the sofa bed. _Just how many pockets does that thing have?!_

 

Bane ignored John’s unnecessary burst of emotion. “Go eat John. And then we will discuss how we are going to rescue this little boy of yours from The Bats.”

 

 

TBC

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned on making this longer actually as I wanted to depict just how different the relationship these two have now (Side comment: if there is any improvement at all), but I left some parts out so you guys can just read between the lines or something. Hehe
> 
> Oh, happy new year.  
>  
> 
> SPOILER ALERT:
> 
> This is probably the last chapter of John and Bane having any semblance of peace and quiet. The remaining chapters are all full of action, death, and gore (aka all the fun stuff)!
> 
> chasind.tumblr.com


	7. The Residential District

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still un beta-ed. You know what that means.

If there was one thing John hated about this little rescue mission, it was that he had to use the sewers again. His first foray into the dark, cold, dreary pits of Gotham’s hell was already a template for future nightmares and he seriously didn’t want to add more life threatening experiences to that.

 

“Stop,” Bane suddenly said a few feet in front of the detective. The mercenary had his left arm raised as a halting signal, the right tightly gripped on his small bolo. Bane surveyed the surroundings as John could see the man’s cold breath emanating from behind his mask.

 

None a second too soon John heard the very familiar clicking sounds somewhere in the darkness. The hairs at the back of his neck stood up from as his left hand instinctively found its way to his knife holster strapped on his left thigh. Because if there was one thing that John hated more than the sewers, it was a clicker.

 

Those wretched beings terrified the young detective like no one’s business. Since entering the sewers in the quarantine zone three hours ago, he and Bane were basically creeping around in the dark because every now and then they would hear that constant clicking sound.

 

It wasn’t easy. The platforms they were standing on were basically encased in ice, rattling every now and then whenever they walked on it. The rattling would draw the attention of wandering clickers. Thankfully, they haven’t encountered any so far as they would abruptly stop and wait for the clickers to disappear before continuing on. John definitely did not want to battle clickers anytime soon.

 

By the time John unsheathed his knife, the clicking sounds started to die down. When the familiar silence of the sewers greeted him back, Bane turned around to look at John and nodded, reassuring him that it was _now_ safe to proceed. The detective responded by giving a nod of his own as he sheathed his knife and followed Bane into the dark once again.

 

As they continued, John couldn’t help but shiver. He rubbed his arms around his body in a small attempt to keep warm. It was definitely colder here in the sewers than up in the city itself. That was something he sadly just discovered now. He looked warily at the icicles on the ceilings, worried that they might accidentally break and impale him on the head.

 

As John turned his attention away from the stalactites and back onto the pathway ahead of him, he noticed Bane had suddenly stopped walking. Being paranoid, he unsheathed his knife and carefully made his way closer to the larger man.

 

Once he was within earshot behind the other man, John quietly whispered, “Problem?”

 

Bane hummed in front of him. “Yes and it is a big one. The platform we are on has been destroyed.”

 

“What?” John asked, not because he didn’t hear the question but rather because of disbelief. He sidestepped from behind Bane, grabbed the flashlight clipped onto one of his rucksack’s straps. He shone his flashlight in front of him and instead of a metal railway, what greeted him was a very large hole filled with frozen sewage disposal. John lifted his light a little bit higher and found that across the way; the railway they were on was indeed broken. “Shit, you’re right,” he whispered. He looked back at the gap. “I don’t think I can make it across. Could you?” he asked Bane.

 

“Neither can I,” Bane replied morosely.

 

“So… what now?” John asked him.

 

“Hmm…” Bane pondered, stroking his mask in deep thought. A split second later, he guided his flashlight around the room. “I don’t see anything we could use to hang a rope from.”

 

“Yeah, and those stalactites aren’t looking very sturdy either,” John added as he shone his flashlight upwards. The large group of icicles glittered under the light, daring them to try.

 

Bane grumbled, not liking where this was going. “Then we have no choice but to go up to the surface,” he told John as he started to backtrack down the hanging metal pathway.

 

_Surface? Wait… What?_

 

“We’re going up?” John called out to Bane as he briskly walked to catch up with the other man. He didn’t like that plan too much. Other than infected, he and Bane may run into soldiers.

 

Soldiers with big guns.

 

“Where are we now anyway?” he asked the mercenary.

 

Bane took a moment and stopped. He grabbed his map from inside his trench coat’s inner pockets and studied it for a minute. “We’re in the main residential district in Central Gotham,” he answered as he placed his map away before turning to John. “Are you familiar with the area?”

 

“Not really,” John shrugged. “I haven’t really visited this part of Gotham too often.”

 

“Huh,” Bane said, unimpressed. “What can you tell me about it from your _experience_?” he asked the detective as he continued walking.

 

John picked up on Bane’s mocking one, but decided to be the better man and ignore his condescending nature. “This area is just full of houses and small apartment buildings. That’s basically it. The only high rise building in the area is _Hotel Hello_ near the bridge,” he answered.

 

“Okay, then we need to head there to cross to North Gotham,” Bane replied back as he gripped the railings of a nearby ladder. Before he ascended, he quickly turned to John and said, “I don’t know who or what we’ll encounter on the surface, but one thing is for certain: _do not trust anyone_.”

 

“Well obviously,” John huffed.

 

“Hmph,” Bane replied, not liking that John wasn’t taking his advice seriously. “I’ll check the surface first and see if there’s any immediate danger. You wait here until I say it’s safe,” he told John before going up the ladder.

 

John watched Bane vanish upwards. The detective walked closer to the ladder and shone his flashlight upwards to help the mercenary see what he was stepping on. He was hampered though by the specks of ice from the ladder that fell down on his face. The detective grumpily brushed them away and was about to cuss out in annoyance when the faint sound of clicking caught his attention.

 

Alarmed, John quickly turned around and scanned his surroundings. There was a clicker nearby. He waited patiently under the ladder for it to go away like the others before, but the sound of ice breaking under Bane’s boots only made the sound of the clicking noises grow louder.

 

 _Go faster Bane!_ John told himself silently as more ice rained down on him. He could now hear the growling of the clicker, but he still couldn’t see it. _Hurry the fuck up!_

 

A few seconds later, the ice stopped falling as John heard a manhole being moved somewhere in the distance.

 

_Oh thank god!_

 

While Bane was checking out the surface for any immediate danger, John was trapped in the sewers with a clicker that has yet to reveal itself. The sounds and growls of the clicker was getting louder and louder. It definitely was _not_ going away.

 

“John! It’s clear!” he heard Bane yell from the surface.

 

John didn’t waste any time at all in climbing that ladder. He deftly ignored in trying to climb up as quietly as he could. In his mind, the most important thing right now was to get out of there as fast as fucking possible. Midway up the ladder, he heard something crashing against the wall below him. John didn’t bother looking down for he was one hundred percent sure that was a clicker. Instead, he resumed climbing with his rapidly increasing heartbeat. Once he got to the surface, John quickly turned around and closed the manhole cover shut before lying down on the snow in both relief and exhaustion. 

 

“Let me guess,” Bane said as he towered over John, eyes painted with amusement. “Clicker?”

 

John wanted to flip the mercenary off, but was interrupted by a beeping sound from his arm. It was his watch beeping, signaling him that it was now midnight. He forgot to turn off his alarm. With a grumble, he turned it off and found Bane shaking his head at him.

 

“Be thankful your watch did not ring down there,” he said disappointedly before entering a nearby abandoned house.

 

 _Okay, I deserved that one_. John thought as he heaved himself up from the ground and followed Bane inside.

 

He entered into a very derelict kitchen and found Bane rummaging through the various empty cabinets for anything useful. John’s eyes wandered around and took notice that all the cabinets were opened and that all the drawers were turned inside out.

 

_It seems someone already pillaged this place well._

 

He walked around the kitchen as he flashed his light around. Only then was he able to notice how badly it has deteriorated. Mold was forming on the ceiling as well as the in rusty sink on the counter. The refrigerator was fully open, its detached door lying a few feet away on the floor. But the thing that caught John’s eyes the most was the large amount of blood splattered on the far wall. He shuddered, not wanting to think what possibly could have caused that stain on the green tiled wall. He was about to move on when his flashlight caught the reflection of something on the floor.

 

 _What is that?_ John asked himself as he walked closer to it. He bent down and shone his light closely. It was a broken picture frame of a family of five. The smiles of the mom and dad radiated from the still photo as they held on to their three small boys standing in front of them. John felt a lump in his throat as he continued to stare at the photo. His eyes slowly then directed themselves to the large bloodstain on the wall.  

 

And that’s when he couldn’t handle it anymore.

 

He got back to his feet and silently walked past Bane. He ignored Bane calling his name as he stepped out into the night. He trudged in the snow all the while taking in quick breaths of the cold air. He never realized just how out of breath he really was. He bent down, placed his hands on his knees as he tried to fight the tears that were coming.

 

“John, what’s wrong?” Bane asked from the kitchen door.

 

The young man bitterly laughed at the question. He was so consumed with so much vitriol that he failed to notice the sound of footsteps in the snow.

 

“John look out!”

 

The detective quickly looked up just in time to find a male runner jumping at him. “Shit!” John shouted as he got his knife ready and managed to plunge it in the runner’s chest right before it fell on top of him. The infected gurgled out blood as it flailed around on top of John.

 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” John whispered as he pushed the runner off of him and quickly got back on his feet. _That was close!_ When he looked down the snowy alley, he found a lot of runners charging at him.

 

“John get inside now!” Bane hollered behind him.

 

Not wasting any time, John took his knife from the dead runner’s chest and sprinted back into the house. As soon he got within reach, Bane reached out, grabbed him and forcefully hauled his ass back inside with so much force that he hit the blood stained wall.

 

“Ooouchh!” John shouted in pain as he glared at Bane who barred the kitchen door with the refrigerator.

 

“Did he bite you?” Bane asked.

 

“I thought you said it was clear from danger?” John demanded, furious he could have died a few moments ago.

 

“Well apparently not!” Bane snapped as he readied his bolo. “Now, are you bit?”

 

“No!” John quickly responded, feeling angrier and angrier as each second ticked by.

 

Both men weren’t able to continue their little spat as the sound of glass breaking caught their attention.

 

John looked at his right and saw a female runner crashed through the window and was now getting to her feet. “Oh no you don’t!” John snarled as he marched up to the woman. As soon as it lifted its blonde head and growled at John with its blood shot eyes, he stabbed it right on the forehead. It let out a few breaths before dropping dead on the floor.

 

The sound of more glass breaking had him turning his head. Another infected threw itself through the window. Before it could even move from the floor, Bane swiftly decapitated its head with his bolo, staining the floor with some fresh blood. As the mercenary turned around to survey John’s safety, he pointed behind the detective and shouted, “John! Window!”

 

The young man turned his head and saw that there were three runners all simultaneously trying to get inside the kitchen through the broken window. He switched his grip on his knife as he walked towards the three runners. One runner had half of his body through already, face contorting with rage as its hands thrashed around the counter. Just as John was about to stab it on the head, it choked out its last dying breaths before laying dead on the kitchen counter. The detective turned around and saw Bane had his gun out for the party.

 

“Use your guns John,” Bane ordered him as he fired a bullet towards the runners crawling through the window from his side of the kitchen.

 

“But I thought-”

 

“Guns. Now,” Bane snarled as he shot more runners on the foreheads.

 

Just as John was able to bring out his gun, he saw the refrigerator shaking in its place. _Shit! They’re going to break through!_

 

“Bane we need to get out of here!” John hollered nervously as he shot another runner attempting to go inside through the window.

 

“Out the front door! Hurry!” Bane replied, pointing his gun inside the house.

 

John ran inside the house and into the living room. He proceeded towards the main door that was barred by a wooden plank. Picking up speed, he rammed his body through the door, successfully breaking it down in the process as his face suddenly connected with the snow outside on the ground.

 

Bane grabbed his rucksack as he hauled the detective up to his feet. “Run,” he ordered the detective before turning around and shooting a runner that managed to get inside the house. John obeyed as he ran out of the lawn and into the street with Bane right on his heels. As he ran through the streets, he saw runners pouring out from inside the houses chasing them with all their might.

 

“Fuck! Why are there so many?!?” he screamed in frustration as he shot an approaching runner on the chest twice. His aim was still far from perfect and it still mildly stung, but at least he was able to keep his hand steady and use a fucking gun.

 

“John, we need to lose them!” Bane shouted behind him.

 

The detective snorted at Bane’s suggestion. “And how do you intend to do that?” he shouted sarcastically.

 

“Slow down!” he heard Bane shout behind him.

 

_The fuck?!_

 

“Slow down? Are you out of your _fucking_ mind?!” John screamed under the moonlight.

 

“We need to lose them. Too many are chasing us and we don’t have enough bullets to take all of them down!” Bane growled behind him. “We can’t lose them just by running through the streets. Slow down a bit and let me lead the way!”

 

“Shit! Fine!” John relented as he slowed down ever so slightly just enough for Bane to overtake him. As soon Bane’s trench coat passed him, he picked up speed again and ran for his life.

 

“We need to lessen their numbers first! Turn left here,” Bane shouted before turning a sharp left at the upcoming street. “And turn off your flashlight!” he barked as the mercenary turned his off.

 

 John momentarily fumbled with his flashlight before successfully switching it off. He then chased after Bane, loudly cursing every curse word he knows.

 

“And be quiet!” Bane hollered.

 

The detective then shut his trap after that.

 

“Now turn right!” Bane hollered.

 

“Turn left on the second street John!”

 

“Incoming runner on your two o clock!”

 

“Another left here!”

 

“Right on the next one!”

 

John’s eyes widened when he saw the street that both of them were in. “Bane! This is a cul de sac!” He gaped in horror as he looked onwards and saw that they were running into a dead end, an iron fence barricading the perimeter of the lot.

 

“Just trust me! Inside this house, come on!” Bane said as he barged inside a house, destroying the door in the process.

 

_You are going to kill me!_

 

Against his better judgment, John followed Bane inside. “What now?” he shouted once stepping in the foyer.

 

Bane jogged down the hallway. “Go out the back door!” he said. “Quick here!” he shouted at John before disappearing inside a room.

 

The detective ran towards Bane. He could still hear the runners behind them, although he did notice that the growling definitely was lesser and quieter than before. Whether it was because they lost some or because they shot a lot of them down, John was definitely not sticking around to find out.

 

The room he followed Bane in was the kitchen and John could already see the mercenary outside underneath the wrought iron fence.

 

“Hurry up! I’m going to vault you across!” Bane shouted as he waved John to approach before crouching down and holding out his hands.

 

Praying silently, John sprinted towards him. As soon as his foot connected with Bane’s hands, the mercenary launched him up into the air with all his might. The detective raised his hands and grabbed onto the iron fence. He didn’t successfully vault over but he was near the top, which was good enough for him since he only needed to simply climb a bit to cross.

 

“Thank god you don’t have fucking pointed edges!” John muttered under his breath as he climbed as fast as he could. Behind the fence, he saw Bane land a few feet away. _Naturally you don’t have a problem!_ John seethed with annoyance as he hauled his body to the top.

 

Once he reached the top, the entire group of runners crashed into the iron fence, causing it to rock violently. The sudden motion caused John to become unbalances and fall through the other side. He was expecting to land face first on the snow but instead landed safely in Bane’s arms.

 

“You okay?” Bane asked him, brows furrowed in concern.

 

“Yeah I’m fine,” John whispered out of breath as he wrestled his way off Bane’s arms. He pushed Bane aside and shot a runner that was on top of the fence.

 

Once it fell dead on the ground and its blood coating the white snow , he saw more runners attempting to climb the fence. All of them were growling hideously like some sort of evil orchestra. He wasn’t able to count all of them, but the detective estimated there must have been around ten or so.

 

“We need to go John,” Bane said, grabbing John’s hand as an attempt to draw the detective’s attention away from the fence.

 

John’s eyes stayed glued to the fence. He was too mesmerized by the sheer terror of the runners all of whom were staring at them with all their bloodshot eyes.

 

“John!” Bane tugged the detective lightly.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said as he shook his head and looked at Bane. “Yes, let’s go,” he whispered quietly.

 

“Okay. We need to find shelter and quick,” Bane said before breaking into a run. “Keep up John!” he said to the detective.

 

“I am!” John said behind him as he followed the mercenary into the night.

 

Both men soon found themselves running in an area surrounded by buildings. John recognized them as the small-scale apartments in the residential district. That meant they were heading towards the direction of the hotel.

 

“We’re near the hotel Bane!” he exclaimed happily towards the mercenary.

 

Bane was about to respond when the sound of distant growls caught both men’s attention.

 

“We need to hide,” Bane said as he directed John towards an open apartment building. John looked at it and saw that other than the open entrance, its windows were completely closed off by its iron grills. Bane quickly jogged there with John closely following behind.

 

Both men had guns aimed and ready to shoot the moment they stepped inside the entrance. Thankfully there weren’t any runners nearby. It was also convenient that several heavy looking furniture ranging from dressers to sofas were completely blocking the stairway, making the upper floors completely inaccessible. John realized somehow their luck was slowly changing for the better.

 

“I’m going to check the back,” Bane said in the dark. “Find a way to close that front door!” he told John before disappearing down the hallway.

 

Once Bane was out of sight, John immediately looked around to find something large enough to block the open entrance. His eyes suddenly stopped at a large wooden bookshelf propped nearby a window. Not wasting any time, he pushed it towards the entrance and was ecstatic that it was able to successfully block the hole perfectly. Remembering how the runners made their way past the locked kitchen door earlier, he then pushed a sofa behind the bookshelf for extra reinforcement.

 

“Good work _detective,_ ” Bane said playfully behind him, impressed that John was able to accomplish his task.

 

“How’s the back?” John asked him as he clapped his hands free from dirt.

 

“No runners so far,” Bane answered confidently.

 

John was about to ask what was their next course of action when he heard a woman scream outside. He looked warily at Bane before both of them, at the same time, glanced outside the window.

 

The detective had to squint his eyes through the glass to get a good look of what was going outside. Underneath a flickering lamppost, a woman clad in what seems to be a pink sweater was being attacked on the ground by a pack of runners.

 

“Where did _she_ come from?” he asked Bane in alarm.

 

Bane simply looked on as the runners tore through her. “It’s too late,” he said quietly.

 

John pressed his face back towards the glass and saw that she was indeed going to die under the hands of those runners. The image of that woman brought him back to the ambush and how helpless he was in helping anyone.

 

 _Well not this time!_ He told himself as he walked to a nearby open window and aimed his gun in between the iron grills.

 

“What are you doing?” Bane asked angrily behind him.

 

“I’m going to shoot her. She doesn’t deserve to die like that,” John said sympathetically.

 

“You will not,” Bane ordered him as he narrowed his eyes at the detective.

 

_Excuse me?!?_

 

“Why not?!” John asked incredulously.

 

“The moment you fire your gun, you will alert that horde to our position. And even if you don’t, they will eventually follow our footprints towards this building. We can sneak out the back before they do,” Bane said slowly and forcefully.

 

“I just can’t leave her to die like that Bane. _No one_ deserves to die like that!” he cried out, tears forming in his eyes from both anger and desperation.

 

Bane stared into John’s eyes before turning around and walking away without saying word. The mercenary slipped into dark hallway towards the rear entrance, leaving John and his thoughts all alone in the room.

 

The detective stood there, mouth agape over how cruel and utterly inhumane this situation was. Against his conscience, John gritted his teeth before slowly lowering his gun. He swallowed hard before putting it away and followed Bane out into the back.

 

The last thing he heard were the woman’s screams slowly dying down, telling John that she was about to die soon.

 

And that was one sound he would _never_ forget.  

 

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *GASP* 
> 
> 2 chapters in one week? Lol blasphemous isn't it? To be honest, I find writing action packed chapters to be easier to write than conversation heavy ones. 
> 
> Hope you like Bane and John's foray into danger once again. 
> 
> chasind.tumblr.com


	8. Abandoned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, no beta.

There’s a brief moment when you first wake up when you have no memories. A blissful blank state, a happy emptiness, but it doesn’t last long. And you suddenly know exactly where you were and what you were trying to forget: abandoning a poor, defenseless woman to her death.

 

John Blake slowly blinked as his hands rested calmly on his chest. It was slowly coming back to him now. Throughout the quiet, he subconsciously clenched his fists as the repulsion of what transpired earlier gradually washed over him. Regret started to loom over his head as he blankly stared at the faded wooden ceiling above him. “We just left her,” John whispered to himself while running a gloved hand through his hair. He was still trying to coherently process his feelings.

 

Leaving people to die wasn’t a foreign concept to the detective. Given his line of work, John was well versed with the notion that you simply _cannot_ save everyone. In fact, that ambush during the scavenging hunt a few days ago proved that notion perfectly.

 

Last night was different though. Last night, he could have saved that woman in a pink hoodie from being devoured by the runners, but in the end, he chose to follow Bane’s orders and abandoned her. That left a bitter taste in his mouth.

 

“Bane and I just left her,” John muttered slowly to himself, his voice merely above that of a whisper. He knew Bane was ruthless, being a terrorist and all, but still that didn’t make it any less surprising or any less bitter to swallow. Just when he thought that Bane had some shred of humanity in him, the mercenary would do something as heartless as leaving a person to die like that.

 

_Speaking of Bane…_

 

John quickly propped himself up to a sitting position and turned towards the spot wherein he last saw Bane settle in earlier. He wrinkled his nose when he discovered that Bane was not in his corner. As John looked around the nearly deserted room, he found that the other man was nowhere in sight.

 

 _No wonder there weren’t any snide, snarky comments directed at me, he’s not here._ The detective’s eyes quickly narrowed when a grave thought entered his mind. _Wait… He didn’t leave me did he?_

 

Simply the thought of it made John quickly sweat, a feat considering Gotham was still under the mercy of the frigid weather. He quickly got up to his feet and chucked away the blanket that was laid out on top of him. As it crumpled down a few feet away from him, John couldn’t help but stare at it in confusion. When he got down on the floor to sleep earlier, he could have sworn that there weren’t any blankets in the room. That caused him to stare peculiarly at the blue blanket in question.

 

 _Bane gave me that blanket._ John thought. He slowly transferred his gaze from the blanket to the bedroom door. Yet again, Bane stumped him with another small act of kindness. He didn’t really know what to make from this gesture, but he couldn’t deny the fact that he was slightly touched by it. He decided to return the favor by carefully folding the blanket and lining it up neatly against the wall. It was the least he could do to show his appreciation. _Not that Bane would see because he isn’t here…_

 

When he and Bane earlier stumbled into the building well past midnight, he barely had a chance to see and inspect the interiors. He basically just followed Bane throughout the building as the larger man mentioned he was searching for a suitable place to rest. He didn’t even pay much attention to the details. He was just too damn tired then. Now that he was fully rested, John finally had the chance to study his surroundings.

 

He found himself standing in an empty, moderately sized apartment. Empty was a perfect term for it as there weren’t any bathroom or kitchen. Heck, there weren’t even any wall partitions inside. The entire room was just one big empty space. And judging from the tattered blue striped wallpapers and the floor missing a few wooden planks, the apartment had seen better days.

 

 _Of all the places to settle in, he decides to sleep in an empty apartment. I’m sure he could have found a place that had at least a comforter or something._ John silently complained.

 

John crossed the room and made his way to the long window that was enclosed by iron grilles. He cautiously peeked through it and scanned the street below only to find that it was devoid of any form of life. Only the white snow and a few furniture pieces littered the streets. As John gazed up, he saw his somewhat distorted reflection staring back at him.

 

The building across had large floor to ceiling windows, though the lower floors were damaged and cracked beyond repair. Only the upper floors had windows fully intact. John looked at it and managed to deduce from the reflection that he was on the top floor of his building. It wasn’t that high. If he had to guess, he probably would say that there were six floors in total. The floor he was on and the floor below had iron-grilled windows, which he assumed the lower floors would have as well. Other than that, there wasn’t anything else interesting to note.

 

The detective turned away from the window and stared back at the empty room. As he stood there, he couldn’t help but wonder where Bane was. Did the mercenary abandon him? There were a lot of things he still didn’t know about the large man and the fact still remained that Bane was extremely difficult to read. These made John have a hard time arriving at a confident assumption on Bane’s sudden disappearance. He wanted to remain hopeful that the mercenary didn’t leave him and he couldn’t even bring himself to think that the man simply left him. Although if Bane did leave him… the blanket was a clever and intimate way of saying goodbye.

 

John shook his head in disbelief as he strode across the room towards the door. He’d rather just find the other man. He surely couldn’t have gotten far. As John reached the door, he cautiously turned the apartment knob and slowly pulled the door open. He was just about to open it big enough for his head to poke through when the door started croaking eerily loud. The detective’s hands abruptly stopped, pausing midway to listen to his surroundings. The last thing he needed was to get ambushed by a bunch of infected because of a stupid door making unnecessary noises. Thankfully for him, the only thing that greeted him back was silence. Not that it helped much - silence also spooked him out.

 

Sensing that it was somehow safe for the time being, John fully extended the door open as he slipped out into the hallway. He looked around and found that he was right smack in the middle of a very long and very derelict hallway. A line of heavily boarded up windows were across him. Upon closer inspection, John found that these planks were rotten beyond belief. This was readily confirmed when he was easily able to tear them planks off the nails. He quickly found out that it was a wrong move on his part as the dust from the wood gave him a small coughing fit. John swatted, in vain the dust away as he turned his attention away from the windows. As he recovered from his small coughing fit, he found himself staring at a weird contraption.

 

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He took a few steps to his left and stopped in front of the adjacent apartment’s door.

 

_What on earth?_

 

The door to the neighboring apartment was fitted with some weird metal contraption. Long metal tracks ran from the edges of the door, two from the top and another two from the bottom with all four converging towards the center to some sort of housing mechanism. The central mechanism wasn’t that intricate by any means. It had a small keyhole near the bottom. Just above the keyhole was a small glass case that housed the word, “CONDEMNED” in red paint.

 

_Who placed this contraption here? And where did they get this machine?_

 

When John chanced a glance down the length of the hallway, he found that every door had the exact same machine pinned on them. As he turned his attention to his left, he found out that the apartment he and Bane slept in earlier was the only one without.

 

 _Strange. Did Bane destroy the machine?_ John asked himself as he continued staring at the door to the apartment he just exited from. There wasn’t any machine propped on the door and he couldn’t help but wonder why it didn’t have any.

 

The detective turned his attention back to the machine in front of him. He tried to pry it from the door. When it didn’t budge at all, he propped his left foot on the door and pulled with all his might only to give up a few seconds later. Okay… He thought as he frustratingly stared at the machine. Even Bane wouldn’t be able to remove that with his strength alone. Eyeing the machine one last time, John left it glued on the door before turning his attention back at the corridor. Seeing that one end of the hallway was barred with a stack of heavy furniture, the path for him take was seemingly chosen already.

 

_Hmm… Maybe that’s where all the furniture from the room ended up._

 

The detective ran his fingers through the ripped out floral wallpaper as he silently sauntered down the hallway, taking time to look at the menagerie of junk scattered on the floor. Old newspapers, boxes, and a bunch of glass shards were scattered all over the place, remnants of a place long forgotten. His fingers froze and his walking came to a stop when one particular newspaper clipping caught his attention. Curious, John bent down and took it out from one of the boxes.

 

John blew across the top page and swiped his hand to clear the paper from dust. Once somewhat clean and readable, he discovered that he was holding an issue of the Gotham Gazette, which was one of the city’s leading publications. John fondly remembered picking up a copy from the local convenience store before heading for work. While other cops in his department would buy a box full of doughnuts, he’d go inside and buy the Gazette along with the Gotham Herald. He’d thoroughly scan through each newspaper looking for new articles about the Batman and all the new criminals he single handedly apprehended. He’d remember getting chewed out by his superiors for idolizing the vigilantes. He tried his best to hide his smirk back then, knowing full well his superiors hated the Batman. The masked crusader made the Gotham police look incompetent.

 

“Back when everything was normal,” John wistfully sighed as he turned his attention back at the newspaper clipping.

 

It really wasn’t the name of the newspaper that grabbed him, but rather its rather distressing headline. “GOTHAM ABANDONED” was splayed in big, bold dark letters on the front cover. John skimmed through the article as his mouth slowly turned into a frown. The piece outright blamed and persecuted the U.S. government for turning its back on Gotham. He vividly remembered that speech on the radio that the even though the U.S. government does not negotiate with terrorists, they would not abandon Gotham to fend for themselves. That speech was difficult to forget. After all, he was driving with Commissioner Gordon back then. But the government never kept their promise. When word of the infection got around, the army had no reservations blowing up the only functional bridge left in Gotham, leaving the entire city isolated from the mainland. To make matters worse, the army was ordered to apprehend and gun down anyone who tried escaping, civilian and terrorist alike.

 

That day was something of a turning point in John’s life. When he first joined the Gotham Police Department, John Blake took it upon himself to constantly strive to protect the innocent.  He looked up to the Batman and other notable people in congress helping keeping criminals in check. The bombing of the last bridge tarnished that idealism. He still had a hard time accepting the fact that Gotham was left to fend for herself in this new crisis. He couldn’t understand how the government could simply stand by and watch innocent people suffer and die. That was not what he signed on for. And that was something he could not stand by.

 

John’s trip to memory lane was rudely interrupted by weird pounding sounds somewhere in the lower floors. The detective whipped his head up towards the stairwell, his right hand instinctively going to his survival knife.

 

 _What the fuck was that?_ John cursed as he studied the stairwell, looking for any sign of movement. He slowly stood up and settled into a defensive position, his knife out in front. Although there was no movement in the stairwell, the pounding sounds persisted, alarming the detective of the situation he was in.

 

He knew for a fact that Bane wasn’t making those noises. The mercenary’s game was built on stealth and silence, so he couldn’t come up with a logical explanation why Bane would make such a noise. It could be a group of infected, but it also could mean stray looters.

 

A bead of sweat ran down John’s forehead. “Fuck,” he silently mouthed as he anxiously wiped his sweat away. Whether it were looters of infected, if those responsible for making the noise managed to reach the floor he was on, he would be trapped. There was no other way out except the stairs. The hallway behind him was blocked with furniture. The room he slept in was basically a dead end as well with the grilles. If he wanted to escape, he needed to go down. That meant there’s a rather huge possibility he’d run into the source of whoever (or whatever) was making all that noise downstairs.

 

“Fuck,” John cursed softly again as he crept towards the stairwell. The nearer he got, the louder the pounding sounds were becoming. The louder the pounding sounds became, the more the hair on his arms rose in fright.

 

In all honesty, John would rather avoid any conflict and just disappear into the streets of Gotham. This way he wouldn’t need to need risk getting a bite from the infected as well losing ammo when he could slip them by.

 

_Of course I first need to get down on the fucking ground floor… Not going to be exactly an easy walk in the park._

 

As he reached the stairwell, John took one deep breath before he hugged the wall, his rucksack getting squished in the process. As he slowly tiptoed down, John transferred his knife to his left hand and took out his handgun with his right. After all, it was better to be over prepared than under prepared in this situation. Having both weapons drawn would increase his chances of survival.

 

By the time he got to the landing, he stopped. _What the hell? The next floor is blocked off!_ John processed in his head as he gaped at the numerous furniture pieces stacked together in a haphazard fashion. He must have been way more exhausted when they entered the building in the middle of the night because he sure didn’t remember seeing these on the way up. Couches, sofas, bookshelves, grandfather clocks, tables, dressers, and a whole lot of boxes all encroached the stairwell, blocking access to this floor’s apartment hallway. Now, John didn’t know if these were meant to keep things out… or were meant to contain things in. Either way, he wasn’t going to stick around to find out as he warily continued his way downstairs.

 

The detective soon discovered that those creating the ruckus were definitely not human. When he reached the next landing, he could distinctively hear a couple of undead growling, groaning, and snarling a few floors down. He still wasn’t sure how many were there, but he was more than certain it wasn’t just one. He just hoped it wasn’t too many as he would be vastly overwhelmed if that were the case. He still didn’t know where the fuck Bane disappeared to. Even though he dreaded the thought, the possibility of the mercenary abandoning him was becoming more and more apparent.

 

The snarls of the infected were getting more restless, John noticed. Once he reached the third floor’s landing, John finally had a clear view of them. Like all the other floors above, the third floor’s hallway was also blocked with an array of large furniture and boxes. In front of the huge blockade were five male runners garbed in military attire trying to get past it. They scratched and slammed their bodies’ against it with reckless abandon, in hopes of toppling the thing down.

 

 _Poor souls probably got bit during a mission._ John thought as he sadly watched the infected soldiers. All five were unremarkable in terms of distinction thanks to their identical uniforms. The only thing that was different was the location of the splotches of dried blood on each of their uniforms.

 

As John stood perfectly still on the landing and studied the runners, he realized something. Even though he was basically just a few feet away, he was unnoticed by the infected. They were too preoccupied trying to get through the blockade. If he continued to be quiet, he could easily slip by the five without having to resort to violence. The less contact he had with any infected, the better. That meant no wastage of bullets either, which was definitely a plus!

 

John slowly and silently shimmied his way down the stairs. He tried to keep his steps light to avoid the floorboards from making any sound. He slowly crossed the staircase, making his way towards the guardrails at the center. John remembered to take his time and to pause every now and then to make sure no infected heads were staring back at him. Once his feet landed on the third floor hallway, his hands gripped his gun even more tightly. His proximity to the five runners was really close and it was making him restless. One wrong move would grab their attention and would simultaneously attack him. Given the confined space, that scenario would likely be a disaster. He kept his eyes on the group, watching their spit and drool falling sordidly on the wooden floorboards. Seeing that made John want to leave the building as fast possible and find Bane.

 

He soon managed to reach the second floor landing without detection when he vaguely heard another sound that made his spine shiver. John paused on the landing and stared up at towards the runners. It was somewhat faint, but he could have sworn he heard a sound that resembled crying. He waited for a few moments, keeping his ears open when he heard it again. The runners’ growling drowned out the small fainting sobs, but he confirmed that it was _indeed_ there. John’s eyes widened in realization. The reason why the infected were so adamant on trying to get through the blockade was because there was a person inside.

 

“Go away!” a high-pitched voice cried out, no doubt from inside the hallway.

 

John shivered in dread. _It’s a kid. There’s a fucking child inside there!_ John didn’t have to think at all. He abandoned his scavenging group and a woman to their deaths. He for sure wasn’t about to do it the third time.

 

The detective unsheathed his knife as he silently crept up the stairs to confront the runners and save the kid. As soon as a runner came into view, he mercilessly fired two shots at its back. The infected soon fell down dead on the floor with hissing. Surprised by the sound, the remaining runners turned their attention to their fallen comrade before looking up to see John marching up the stairs with a deadly look on his face. Before they could move, John fired another set of rounds at the nearest runner’s face, dead straight in between the eyes. It crumpled down dead on the ground. The other three, enraged with fury and hunger, charged immediately at the man. Unfortunately for them, John was more than prepared from having the advantage of initiating a surprise attack. He cleanly shot the closest one charging at him on the head. The other two were too close to get a good aim, leaving John resorting to his knife. He tripped one approaching runner causing it to fall down onto the stairs. He ignored that one as he ducked the last approaching runner’s attack and plunged his knife onto its back several times. The runner let out a last gasp before falling down on the floor and staining the floor with its blood. Without any pause, the detective raised his gun at the runner down the stairs and shot it as it came charging up the staircase wit vitriol. It spat out an amount of blood before crumpling down onto the steps for the final time.

 

John took a few steps away from the bodies on the floor and surveyed them in case any of them weren’t fully dead yet. Once he was confident that they were indeed gone for good, he rushed towards the blockade towards the persistent cries of the kid. He knocked on one of the desks lined up in the blockade in hopes of getting the kid’s attention.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked loudly. He immediately noticed that the kid’s sobbing suddenly stopped after he spoke. There was a moment of silence before the kid responded at John.

 

“Please leave me alone!” the kid shouted in between sobs, sounding even more frightened. Judging from the tone of the voice, John figured the kid was a little boy.

 

“Hey kid… I’m not going to hurt you,” John replied as he tried to sound friendly and understanding.

 

“I don’t believe you!” the boy shouted, voice rising in panic.

 

“I promise I’m not,” John patiently answered back. “My name is John Blake and I’m a police officer. I mean no harm. I just killed all the infected trying to get to you.”

 

The boy sniffled, but didn’t say a word back. John waited patiently for his response. From the top of his head, John wanted to ask the boy a lot of questions. After all, it was strange and downright unnerving to find a kid all alone in a dangerous part of Gotham. He kept all questions to himself first because he surely wouldn’t get any answers from the kid without earning his trust first.

 

“You’re a police officer?” the boy asked quietly from the other side.

 

“Yes. I also take care of boys your age in an orphanage called St. Swithin’s. You ever heard of it?” he asked the kid as he tried his best to come across as friendly.

 

“Ye.. yes. I went there once for an outreach thing for school,” the boy replied meekly. John smiled when he realized that the boy’s sobbing was slowly dying down.

 

“Well they’re doing all right. They’re all safe and sound in the quarantine zone in the south part of the city,” John replied. “What’s your name? I promise I won’t hurt you.” When the boy didn’t respond, he added, “I swear on every boy’s life in the orphanage, I will not hurt you.”

 

John stood patiently in silence as he waited for the boy to reply. He just wished what he said was somewhat enough for the boy to open up to him. He raised an eyebrow when he heard a faint whisper from the other side. “Did you say something?” John asked.

 

“Ollie… My name is Ollie. It’s short for Oliver,” the boy replied.

 

“Okay Ollie, why don’t tell me how I can get to you so I can take you back with me to St. Swithin’s. Does that sound okay with you?”

 

“I… I can’t!” the boy shouted back in fright.

 

“Why is that?” John asked back.

 

“My sister isn’t back yet. I don’t want to leave her…”

 

“Well where did she go?”

 

“She went to find some supplies for us,” the boy replied before starting to whimper in fright.

 

“Listen… I’ll help you find your sister, but first I need to see if you’re okay,” John told the boy. He surely wasn’t going to leave the kid all alone while he searched for the kid’s sibling. He shuddered at the thought of a dozen infected finding out the kid’s location and simultaneously attacking the blockade. He didn’t want to think what would happen should they manage to tear it down.

 

There was shuffling noise coming from the blockade. It sounded like the boy was moving something heavy from the other side. John stood back and looked at where the noise was coming from. _Strange._ He thought. From the corner of his eye, he saw a small box at one corner of the blockade wiggling back to into the side of the hallway. He cautiously approached it and watched it disappear to the other end, showing a small clear gap, big enough for a child to pass through.

 

 _Well that’s pretty smart._ John thought as he stared at the gap with curiosity. It was enclosed by four sturdy plywood, two on top and another two on the side. The plywood helped reinforce the gap as it prevented from the furniture on top from falling down and blocking this small passageway. The wooden box that boy pulled out fitted perfectly in the gap, making it a rather inconspicuous.

 

“You can crawl through here,” Oliver squeaked. “But slide your gun in first.”

 

 _Smart kid._ John put his gun back into safety before bending down on the floor. “I’m sliding it now,” he said before sliding his gun across the gap. “I’m also giving you my backpack. I don’t think I can fit with that on me,” he added as he took his ruck sack off and slid it across. He stayed crouched down on the floor while waiting for Oliver to tell him it was okay to pass. The last thing he wanted was to scare the kid even further by being aggressive.

 

“Okay, you can go through now,” Oliver quietly said. “Just be careful!” he added frantically. “It’s super tight for adults.”

 

“I’ll be careful,” John reassured Oliver as he lied down on his back. He took one deep breath before pushing himself into the gap. The kid wasn’t exaggerating when he said that it was tight. John had both his shoulders squeezed inward towards his chest as he used his feet to propel himself through. It was a bit difficult, but certainly not impossible. As John’s head finally went to the other side of the hallway, he looked up and found a small mousy boy with black hair looking down at him apprehensively. The boy was clutching his rucksack and his gun in his arms. He gave the boy a friendly smile as he continued to shimmy his way through.

 

Once that was all done, he slowly got up to his feet and turned his attention back to the boy. “Hey there Ollie” he said, smiling once again at the small boy who was staring at him, looking absolutely frightened.

 

Before Oliver could respond, there were shuffling sounds from the other side of the blockade. A second later, both John and Oliver heard furniture being torn down from the staircase end. Judging from the sound of things making contact with the floor, the pieces in the blockade was being torn down at an alarming rate.

 

“Shit,” John cursed as he listened to the pieces landing loudly on the floor. He quickly turned to the kid. “Oliver, give me the gun and whatever you do, stay behind me,” he said as he looked at the kid in the eyes with dead seriousness. Oliver gave a small gulp as he tossed John back his handgun. It took him merely a second to turn the safety off and aim at the blockade. If these were more runners, he needed to act quickly to be able to protect the boy.

 

The crashing sounds started to increase in number. The blockade was starting to come down fast. A bead of sweat ran down John’s temple as he watched the top end of a grandfather clock violently pulled away, leaving a sizeable clear gap near the ceiling. John quickly aimed his gun at the empty space, ready to shoot in case the head of an infected suddenly pops through. He kept his hand steady as he heard some shuffling noises coming closer to the gap. A second later he saw a familiar head come into view, staring curiously back at him.

 

“Bane!? What the fuck!?” he shouted in indignation as he lowered his gun. “You almost gave me a heart attack!” he added, giving the other man a long, cold glare. “Where the _fuck_ did you go?”

 

“I went to get us some supplies,” Bane replied matter-of-factly, looking pretty much livid himself.

 

“You could have left a note!” John replied, exasperated. “I thought you left me!”

 

“There weren’t any writing materials to do that. And I didn’t want to disturb your sleep,” Bane replied as he continued to tear the blockade down so he could cross. “Besides, I made a promise I would help you find this other boy of yours and I intend to keep it.”

 

“How’d you find me anyway?” John asked, still very much exasperated.

 

“It wasn’t difficult. That dead runner on the staircase tipped me off. And seeing your feet wriggle through that small gap made me think you were getting dragged by even more runners,” Bane replied, glaring at John as he threw a small wooden side table behind him with little effort. “I thought you were getting attacked John. But I see you are not the only one here,” the mercenary said as he took out the last remaining furniture out of the way to finally enter the hallway.

 

John followed Bane’s gaze and turned around to see that Oliver was staring at Bane with big eyes. The poor boy was hugging John’s rucksack extremely tight. “Don’t worry Ollie,” he told him, causing the boy to turn his attention back at John. “He’s… a… well…” he stammered off as he glanced back at Bane who was giving him a curious look. “He’s a friend Ollie,” he said, bending down so he was eye level with the boy. Oliver’s expression slightly worried John. He didn’t know whether the boy recognized Bane from the news as a dangerous terrorist. If the boy indeed knew Bane, he’d have a harder time convincing the boy to travel with them.

 

Oliver exchanged looks between John and Bane before looking back at the detective. “He’s huuuuuuggge!” he exclaimed at John as he pointed at Bane. Thankfully, the boy was oblivious on Bane’s history.

 

“He is, isn’t he?” John said with a small laugh before looking at Bane. John’s smile withered when he noticed that Bane was eyeing him strangely. The detective stood up straight when he saw Bane’s gaze flicker towards the boy then back at him. The mercenary didn’t have to say anything. The detective got the man’s message loud and clear. “Yes Bane,” he snapped. “Oliver is traveling with us.” _I’ll be damned if I’m going to leave this little kid all alone here._

 

Before Bane could respond, Oliver shouted from behind him. “We can’t go yet. You said you were going to help me find my sister!”

 

John mouthed silently at Bane, “We’ll discuss this later.” He turned around and bent down again and smiled at Oliver. “Okay, what does your sister look like? We’ll go find her and then head somewhere safe.”

 

Oliver nodded his head fervently, causing his black hair to flop adorably up and down. “Okay! My sister is easy to spot. She always wears a pink hoodie!”

 

As soon as the kid said that, John swore his blood ran cold.

 

TBC


	9. The Snowstorm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta-ed

From the corner of his eye, John could see that Bane was staring intently at him… again. As the detective paced around the room waiting for Oliver to finish whatever it was he was doing in the bathroom, the mercenary was merely sitting quietly underneath the windows. Bane’s eyes locked onto his and neither man made any motion to break it off. John had a feeling Bane wanted to discuss with him something and he, unfortunately, had an inkling as to what the topic was.

 

John stopped, momentarily closed his eyes and breathed one huge sigh. In times like these, he knew it was better to address Bane’s concerns and curiosity than avoiding them. “What is it Bane?” he asked tiredly at the other man. Bane’s head merely tilted to his left in response somehow feigning ignorance, to which John merely rolled his eyes. “I know you want to say something Bane. Just get it over with,” John added as he crossed his arms against his chest and tapped his right foot on the floor.

 

Bane chuckled at him, no doubt amused that the detective had him pegged down. John watched him slowly stand up and brushed off dirt that somehow clung to his trench coat. Once he was done cleaning himself up, he looked again at John, this time any form of amusement gone from his eyes. “You do not plan on telling him,” he calmly accused John as his eyes traveled towards the bathroom door.

 

John followed Bane’s gaze and slowly uncrossed his arms in defeat. “No Bane,” he curtly replied. “I do not.”

 

Bane transferred his attention back at John. Before he could respond to that, John quickly cut in.

 

“And you are not telling him either,” John added, glaring sideways at him.

 

Bane’s eyebrows rose up, taken aback and genuinely surprised at how suddenly forceful John had become. Even though it seemed the small man was ordering him around, Bane was pleased that John finally started sticking up for himself and making some rather big decisions now. Sometimes questionable and stupid decisions, but big decisions nonetheless.

 

“You think this is a bad idea, don’t you?” John asked him. The uncertainty in the man’s voice somehow made it seem that John’s question was more rhetorical than whatnot, but Bane nevertheless answered back.

 

“On paper yes,” Bane calmly replied, causing John to look at him. He took the silence from John as a signal to continue and explain. “We are going to the north island John, which is heavily populated with infected.”

 

John’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “I can’t just leave him here Bane. Especially after with his sister…” he murmured quietly as he turned away. 

 

“I know you can’t and I will be disappointed if you decided to,” Bane replied back.

 

John smiled sadly over the fact that Bane was somehow approving his decision to bring Oliver along for the rest of the journey. The little boy reminded him too much like his boys in St. Swithin’s. There really was no other option in his head.

 

“But…” Bane continued as he slowly walked forward. “He will ask questions about his sister John and I wonder if you will have the courage to tell the truth,” he wondered out loud as he leaned against the wall across from the bathroom door. He crossed his arms against his chest and stared at John. “Or would you like for me to tell him?” he asked.

 

“No!” John answered back, hands balling into a fist from the thought. Bane simply continued staring back at him, looking mightily unimpressed. “I mean… if it were to come to that, I’d like to tell him,” he clarified.

 

Bane stayed silent for a few moments before responding back to John’s statement. “You should not feel guilty over what happened,” he said softly to John.

 

The sincerity and the softness of Bane’s tone took John by complete surprise. Dumbfounding to even consider how his mechanical sounding voice could sound so genuine, yet as John looked at Bane’s eyes, he found that there was no ounce of malice or judgment. He crouched down and clutched his knees, feeling light headed all of a sudden.

 

“Something wrong?” Bane asked him as he took a step forward towards John.

 

John raised his right hand and signaled Bane to stop. “I’m fine. I’m just… well… just a little bit overwhelmed,” he answered softly. Before Bane could take another step forward, the bathroom door slowly opened.

 

“Okay. I’m done!” Oliver announced to both men as he stepped out of the bathroom with a smile on his face.

 

John stood up and turned around to see that the kid was beaming at them. He was wearing a yellow Despicable Minion hoodie and as John tilted his head to get a better look, an Adventure Time backpack. The detective found the whole get-up to be quite adorable really.

 

When neither man answered back to greet him, Oliver just frowned. “Is… Is something wrong?” he squeaked, his hands gripping onto his backpack’s straps a little too tightly as he exchanged glances between John and Bane.

 

“No, nothing’s wrong,” John reassured the boy as he stood up straight, approached Oliver and patted him on the shoulder.

 

Oliver’s frown didn’t let up one bit as he looked up at John before he sidestepped away from the detective to get a good look at Bane who simply nodded back at him. “Oooookay then. Shouldn’t we go out looking for my sister now?” Oliver asked both men.

 

“Um… we will Oliver. Tell you what, we’re actually going up north to find someone and while your sister’s out right now, you can come with us,” John suggested. His suggestion didn’t really pay off because Oliver was soon pouting at John. The kid was obviously not keen on leaving his sister behind. And he definitely made sure John knew that.

 

“We can’t just leave her!” Oliver shouted as he ran away from John, stood at the center of the abandoned room and glared at him.

 

“Oliver…” John started as he took a few steps towards the boy.

 

“No!!” the little boy shouted as tears started to form in his eyes. In a second, Oliver started crying, leaving John dumbfounded on what to do.

 

Crying boys was nothing new for John, but he was a stranger to Oliver. The detective did not know how the little boy would react should he go up and try to console him. He certainly didn’t want to startle the boy any longer. John soon felt a large hand pat his right shoulder. He glanced to that direction and found Bane casually strolling up to Oliver. He watched Bane stop and crouch down a feet away from the kid. Puzzled, John creased his eyebrows at what the mercenary was about to do.

 

Bane silently stared at the little boy for a couple of seconds before asking, “Do you want us to leave you here all alone?”

 

“Bane!!” John shouted, aghast. He couldn’t believe that came out from the other man’s mouth. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

 

The larger man simply ignored John’s outburst as he continued talking to the boy. “Do you want to stay here alone?” The boy’s silence gave Bane the answer that he needed. “Okay, so why don’t we do this instead? Write her a note saying you’re with us first. Once we rescue this boy from John’s orphanage, we can come back and here and pick her up?”

 

Bane’s suggestion worked like a charm because John saw Oliver’s face light up like a Christmas light.

 

“Okay!” Oliver exclaimed in delight over that plan. “I’m going to find a pen and paper right now!” he added before setting down his backpack to look for those items.

 

While Oliver was busy writing for his sister, Bane stood up and approached John. “When we get back from the north, it’s your turn to lie to him,” he said before walking past him.

 

 

-

 

 

Somehow during their short time in the residential district, it had managed to snow. And it certainly wasn’t light either. This one was a full-fledged snowstorm.

 

“Bane!” John shouted as he and Oliver tried to keep up with the man. “Baaa... pleh,” he spat out a few chunks of snow that got in his mouth.

 

“John. I’m cold!” Oliver whined beside him, shivering horribly. His sweatshirt wasn’t doing a good job of protecting the boy from the storm.

 

“What’s the problem?” Bane said as he walked back to the two of them. He stood there, dreadfully still as he watched both John and Oliver shiver from the cold.

 

“We need to find shelter. We can’t walk through this storm,” John shouted over the snow. “Hotel Hello should be nearby. We can rest there. There’ll be beds and some hot water I’m sure.” Bane replied back by simply nodding at them and walked beside the them, making sure his pace wasn’t too fast for them.

 

All three of them managed to find the hotel with ease. Even though the snowstorm drastically dropped their visibility down, the hotel’s tall height among the low to mid rise buildings beside it was pretty much difficult to not notice. Soon, they were walking up the hotel’s main driveway.

 

John lifted his hands and shielded his eyes from the relentless assault of the snowstorm as he tried to get a good read of the large letters hanging from the side of the tall building. He actually had to squint his eyes to make sure he was not seeing this incorrectly. “Hotel Hell,” John slowly recited what seemed to be remaining of the hotel sign. In reality, it was actually called Hotel Hello, but at its current state, the letter ‘o’ was mysteriously missing. John frowned and felt his blood run even colder, a feat he didn’t think was possible because it was already cold as fuck underneath the storm.  

 

As John stood there figuratively and quite possibly literally frozen in his tracks, Bane walked up and stopped beside him. The larger man also looked up to see what the hell had gotten John to stop in the cold. Once he saw it, he couldn’t help but whistle. “I hope this is not meant to be a sign,” he said pensively, his eyes narrowing at the letters.

 

Before John could respond, Oliver pushed himself in between the two men and raced up the stairs towards the main entrance. “Come on! We’re almost inside!” he shouted with excitement as he continued running, his Finn backpack bobbing up and down in the process.

 

“Ollie!” John called out as he started jogging in hopes of catching the boy in case something bad happens. “You need to slow down!”

 

“But I’m freezing!!” Oliver shouted back as he approached the open doorway of the hotel and ran inside. As soon as his left foot reached the threshold, Oliver tripped from a well-hidden rope down on the floor. He unceremoniously landed on the tattered Persian rug before him with a huge thud before he turned his head around and saw that there were iron grilles quickly lowering themselves along the main door. Oliver’s eyes grew wide in panic as he quickly got up only to find himself completely locked inside.

 

“Ollie! Are you okay?” John shouted in worry once he finally reached the main entrance. He shook the grilles in sheer frustration, not liking that this was freaking the little kid out. “Are you hurt?” he asked, looking worryingly at Oliver.

 

The boy shook his head but cried out, “John, I’m scared!” as he slipped his hands in between the iron grilles and held onto the detective’s hands for comfort.

 

“Shh… Shh… It’s okay. Bane and I are here,” John said, gripping Oliver’s hands tightly in a small attempt of reassurance. A second later, Bane stood beside them. The terrorist shook the iron grilles as well in a feeble attempt to pry it off.

 

John and Oliver both watched Bane looking extremely displeased. As to whether it was because of Oliver running off ahead of them or because of the iron grilles, they were not sure. Neither one had any plans on finding out.

 

“Stay back,” Bane grunted at both of them as he squatted down and grasped the bottom of the iron grilles. With a huge huff, he tried to raise it up. Bane grunted even louder as he squeezed his eyes shut from the stress and the pain of the grille’s weight.

 

Noticing that Bane was struggling, John also bent down and helped; however, it didn’t make any significant difference whatsoever. With his added strength, both men only managed to lift the grille by just an inch or two from the floor, not even enough for John to slip his foot inside the small gap. It was much, much too heavy.

 

“Let go,” Bane growled beside John who obeyed quickly and released his hold. Bane followed afterward causing what they were carrying to slump back onto its position back on the floor. As the clanging sound filled the main lobby, Oliver’s cries got even louder.

 

“Hey hey… Ollie, it’s going to be okay,” John hushed the kid as he grabbed Oliver’s hands once again.

 

“This is a trap.”

 

“What?” John snapped at Bane once the mercenary’s words sunk in. Bane simply looked down at him and leveled him a serious glare.

 

“This is a trap John,” Bane repeated as he looked around the vicinity for any way in. Even though the storefront of the hotel was made entirely of glass, it was all barred by large pieces of furniture. There was nowhere he could break into except for a few small pockets of space in between furniture. “We need to find a way to break inside and-” Bane’s words faded into silence when the faint sound of a ringing bell rang from the other end of the main lobby.

 

John’s eyes sat transfixed behind the open, central reception desk and onto the main elevator. The elevator was moving up from the basements with its yellow light shifting upwards from floor to floor. John had his hands hugging Oliver who had his back pressed up the iron grilles. He tried his best to calm the little boy down by shushing and gripping him tightly, but the closer and closer the elevator made its way to the ground floor, the harder Oliver was trembling and crying.

 

In addition to the sounds of the elevator moving, there was another sound present from within the hotel. It was at first faint and easily unrecognizable, but it gradually got louder and louder. John could have sworn it sounded like someone was throwing up. A high-pitched scream screeched in the distance causing Oliver to jump backwards against the grilles, shaking it with wild abandon. John’s hairs on his forearms stood up from the horrible sound. He had never heard anything sound so wrong and so terrifying in his life. He looked around the lobby for the source of that scream, but failed to see anything other than fallen and broken furniture all haphazardly scattered around this once prestigious lobby.

 

“John… Get your gun ready,” Bane told him as the elevator finally moved up from B1 to the ground floor. The mercenary had his gun out and aimed directly at the elevator.

 

John followed suit as he stood up and retrieved his gun and aimed it to where Bane was aiming his. He tightly held Oliver’s hand with his other free hand as they all waited with dread for the elevator to come to a complete stop.

 

A bead of sweat ran down the side of John’s face as the elevator finally reached the lobby with a soft ring. Steadying his aim, John narrowed his eyes as the doors slowly opened. He watched a heavy stream of some sort of green gas exit from within. The gas slowly crept onto the white stone floor. With the lack of adequate lighting inside the elevator cab and the thick gas accumulating around it,  it was difficult for John to see what was actually inside it. But the detective had no doubt in his mind that this was definitely bad news.

 

“Bane, what do we do?” John whispered to his companion as he continued surveying the dark elevator. The gas was still heavy, but it managed to slightly thin out just enough for him to see a very large silhouette.

 

John was just about to repeat his question when those weird belching sounds started again. This time, he managed to zero in that the sounds were definitely coming from inside the elevator cab. John surmised that this certainly was one hundred percent motherfucking bad news. Heavy footsteps soon accompanied those repulsive belching sounds as something came stomping out into the foyer and more importantly into the light.

 

“What on earth?” John said out loud as his hand carrying his handgun slightly wavered. He soon found himself staring in shock with his mouth open. Standing a few several hundred feet away from the trio was some sort of grotesque beast.

 

It was massive in size and if John had to guess, it was well above six feet in height and weighed to somewhat three hundred pounds from the size of the thing. It was covered in fat with lots of pusses jutting out from its stomach, arms, and legs. What made it incredibly frightening was its head – or rather what’s left of it. It had no face anymore. Instead, its head was split wide open down the middle, openly showing its insides that seemed to John. The remnants of the skin from its face now jutted out from its sides, leaving the impression of a bomb exploding in its mouth and freezing the remnants of its skin onto its shoulders. John had to look away to stop himself from vomiting at the sight.

 

The mutated beast simply continued to shamble around the elevator lobby, looking absolutely lost and dazed. Somehow it hasn’t noticed them until Oliver’s cries started getting louder. The beast turned its body at the direction of the three and let out the same horrifying screech that gave John goose bumps. Green gas ooze out from its head at its head as it came charging at them.

 

“Shiiiit!” John shouted as he shot at it, his other arm protectively clinging onto Oliver. He watched with utter frustration as the bullets simply bounced off the beast. “What the fuck?” he shouted as he fired more bullets only to have the same results. As John watched his bullets fall down onto the ground, he realized that the beast wasn’t covered in fat. It was covered in some sort of weird skin armor, possibly a result of its mutation.

 

The infected momentarily stopped charging when it hit the reception counter. Enraged, it brought up its arms and pounded down on the stone counter, easily breaking it into two. Once it had cleared out, it started stomping down the three of them only to be momentarily stopped by Bane shooting at it with his shotgun.

 

“John. Find a way inside,” Bane ordered the detective. “I’m going to distract him in the meantime.”

 

“Okay. And then what? In case you haven’t noticed none of my shots did jack at it! And your shotgun isn’t causing much damage either!” John said in frustration as he watched the infected recover from Bane’s attack and resumed its advance once again.

 

“While you’re inside, you buy some time until I find a way in. If both of us go in at the same time, it’s going to go after Oliver,” Bane told him as he reloaded his shotgun with more ammo.

 

John cursed silently. He hated the idea of leaving Oliver all alone. The boy’s sister died under their watch and he’d be damned if he that were going to happen again. “Ollie… Ollie, listen to me,” he told the boy who was now hysterically crying in front of him. “I’ll be gone for a while okay?” Oliver simply grabbed his hands and started visibly shaking. “Shh… it’s okay. I’ll be there beside you soon enough!” John assured him as he brushed his hand through the little boy’s hair.

 

“Bane,” he said as he looked up at the mercenary. “Once I’m inside, you better be there right away!” Once he received a nod from Bane, John got up and ran around the length of the lobby, looking for a way inside. The last thing he heard was Bane ordering Oliver to look for a place to hide.

 

The constant snow falling heavily from the sky hampered John’s pace. He found himself losing his footing in the snow more than once. He cursed under his breath as he pushed himself up from the ground and resumed running.

 

Getting inside was harder than he expected. Even though the entire lobby was made out of glass, every inch of it was barred with heavy furniture, just like the hallways in Oliver’s apartment. This made it impossible for him to simply break the glass and slip inside. John thought it was hopeless until he came across a section of the hotel wherein it wasn’t enclosed in glass anymore. This portion of the hotel was now enclosed in traditional concrete and lined up with several windows big enough to climb inside. He let out a sigh of relief when he found one window opening that was left open.

 

He slowly jogged his way up to it and carefully peered inside, gun up and ready. An empty, dilapidated office only greeted him in return. It was simply devoid of life as office desks, empty filing cabinets, and various papers all scattered around the room. The only thing that reminded him of life was the bloodstain on the blue carpet. If this place was indeed overwhelmed with infected, he needed to get Oliver and Bane out of here as soon as possible.

 

Once realizing that the coast was briefly clear, John slipped inside and slowly opened the door into the hallway. He readied his gun as he hugged the wall of the hall while cautiously making his way back into the lobby, following the sound of the distant belching sounds of the beast.

 

As soon as John entered the main lobby, he found the infected stumbling around the main lobby. A glance at the iron grilles showed him that Bane had disappeared. _Where did he go?_ John wondered. _He said he’d wait for me before he’d find a way inside!_ The detective seethed with fury and anger as he tried to spy where Oliver had run off. He found the little boy hiding from behind one of the hotel couches nearby.

 

John crouched down and carefully crept through the lobby as he made his way towards the little boy. Thankfully for the detective, the path to the boy was scattered with various furniture he could use as hiding places from the beast. He planned to make good use of them.

 

John carefully but swiftly crossed the open space to a sofa. He hid behind it and peeked from the edge to see if the beast had noticed him. He gave a huge sigh of relief when he saw that the beast was looking absolutely lost as it continued lurking around near the iron grilled gate. He waited for its head to turn to the other direction before crossing over to a nearby overturned coffee table. Once he managed to do so successfully, he grabbed a small shard of wood nearby and flung it at Oliver’s hiding spot.

 

The small piece of wood landed close enough to the boy for him to notice it. He looked at it strangely before looking up and noticing John a few feet away. “John!” he shouted in surprise. It was a little too loud as the beast suddenly screeched from a distance.

 

Deciding to fuck the risk, John lifted his head from behind the table and saw that the beast was now marching its way directly at Oliver’s hiding spot. It had its hands curled up into fists as it left a stream of green gas in its wake. Without hesitating, he stood up from his own hiding spot and fired three shots at it. The bullets hit the infected on its chest, but again, they didn’t do much damage.

 

“Ollie! I want you run in there and hide now!” John shouted while pointing at the hallway he just came out from.

 

“But John! Bane said-”

 

“NOW!” John shouted as he grabbed Oliver by his backpack and pushed him towards the hallway. Once he was sure that Oliver was running into the hallway, he turned his attention back at the beast that was now merely a few strides away from him. John fired his gun only to hear the empty click from his hands. “Shit,” he cursed as he glared at his own gun. _Of all the fucking times to run out of ammo!_ When John looked up, he never saw the infected’s massive forearm smacking the right side of the face.

 

John felt his body move halfway across the room. The beast’s super strength got the better of him and considering the number it did on the stone reception counter earlier, it was a miracle he was still alive. He sputtered out blood as he hastily picked himself up from the floor. He turned around and saw that the infected was once again marching up to him. Realizing that he was basically defenseless, John tried to halt the beast’s advance by throwing whatever he could find at it. None of the books, vases, and wood planks worked. They only appeared to have enraged the beast as it screeched once again, this time exhaling a large amount of green gas into the lobby.

 

He had a book ready in his right hand to throw, but as soon as the green gas came into contact with it, John had to let go of the book as he stumbled backwards in pain.

 

“Fuuuck,” John whispered in pain as he clutched his right arm. He pulled back the fabric of his jacket and saw that his right arm was covered in red burn marks. John looked up and warily stared at the green haze swirling around the room. _It’s poison. The fucking green gas is poison._

 

The infected let out another screech before resuming its advance on John. It appeared ready to finish him off.

 

_How the fuck am I supposed to kill this thing?!_ John wondered as he backed away from the beast, taking good care to not come in contact with the gas. He did this dance with the infected for another couple of minutes before watching something get thrown over his head. It crashed onto the floor in front of him and expelled a wall of fire that the beast ran into. It screeched out in pain as it tried to shake the flames off its body. John turned around and saw that Bane was behind him, looking absolutely angry.

 

“Bane!” John shouted as he marched his way towards the mercenary. “Where have you been?” he asked him once he reached the man.

 

“Found a way through the kitchen. Made some molotovs from the remaining alcohol,” Bane answered back.

 

“You left Oliver alone!” John barked, looking none too pleased that the man left Oliver alone while he was looking for a way in.

 

“I did not. I told him to hide and remain quiet,” Bane replied as he stared down at John.

 

“And how did that helped?” John spat back exasperated. He was about to go on another tirade when another screech from the beast interrupted their conversation. John turned around and saw that it was now charging at them again.

 

“Don’t you ever die?!” John screamed in absolute irritation.

 

Bane threw another molotov onto its path, causing it to run into the newly formed wall of flames again. Once it was alit, Bane grabbed onto John and dragged him across the room. As soon as they were a safe distance from the infected, John retracted his arm from Bane’s grip. Before John could say anything, Bane shushed with a finger. “Didn’t you notice John?” he asked the smaller man as he redirected his finger behind John’s back. The detective followed to where Bane was pointing at and found himself at the infected. “It’s blind,” Bane whispered in his ear.

 

John turned his head and gawked at Bane. “What?” he whispered back, not sure if he heard what he thought Bane said correctly. The larger man slightly bent down, placed an arm around John’s shoulders and redirected John’s attention back at the infected. “It’s blind,” Bane quietly said. “It can’t see you or me. It locks onto their targets through sound. I told Oliver to hide and be quiet because I’m positive it can’t find him,” he added as he looked at John.

 

“Just like the clickers,” John added.

 

“Exactly. Meanwhile while I was looking for a way inside, here you are making so much noise and attracting all its attention.”

 

That last snide comment irked John that he wrestled himself out from Bane’s arms. “Well I didn’t know!” he said.

 

“Of course you didn’t,” Bane bluntly replied.

 

The beast screeched again from a distance and John noticed that it wasn’t as high or intense as before. He looked at it and saw that his skin was now badly burnt as it stumbled its way towards them.

 

“I believe it’s time to finally kill this thing,” Bane said as he walked towards it and fired a few rounds from his shotgun.

 

The bullets didn’t bounce off this time as Bane’s bullets finally penetrated through the infected’s skin. Blood soon poured out from its wounds as it staggered backwards from the impact and fell down onto its knees. It hissed green gases and John marveled with wonder how Bane simply walked through it without as much as flinching. As Bane got closer to the beast, he swapped his gun for his bolo. Once in range, he pierced the infected at the center of its chest and drove it upwards towards its head, slicing its upper body in half. It soon fell down onto the white stone floor coating it with heavy dose of red blood.

 

John watched Bane stare at the body as he walked off towards the other end of the room. His eyes followed Bane as the mercenary started searching for something on the floor. John couldn’t help but wonder why the poisonous green gas from the infected had no effect on him. That and the spores. He stared at Bane’s mask and wondered just how that weird, metallic contraption worked. When Bane caught him staring, John quickly looked away in embarrassment.

 

Sensing that he was still being stared at, John walked up to the beast in hopes of taking his mind off Bane. John had to sidestep through the large pool of blood on the floor so he could get a good look at it. He gazed down at the body and saw that Bane did a number on it for sure. The cut was so clean and thorough that the infected’s upper half had a wide V-shaped gap. John also got a closer look at its head and managed to see a whole lot of innards, veins, muscles that he realized he couldn’t unsee in the near future. All that blood had him feeling lightheaded and woozy. John had to turn himself away to prevent himself from vomiting right there and then. As soon as he turned around, he found Bane walking up to him carrying something.

 

“Here,” Bane said as he handed John his knife. Only then did the John remember. The detective forgot that he lost his knife when the infected knocked him down earlier.

 

“Thanks,” John said with a small smile as he took it from Bane’s hands and sheathed it away. Once that was done, he noticed that Bane was still staring back at him.

 

“Does your arm still hurt?” Bane asked.

 

“My arm?” John echoed as he lifted up his jacket’s sleeves once again to get a good look at his wound. The burn marks were still evident, but the pain had long subsided. “It’s okay. Doesn’t’ hurt anymore,” he replied honestly. Even though the pain was gone, John was still dubious over those burn marks. He wondered if it had any long-term effects on him… Like somehow turning into an infected.

 

The thought bothered him so much that he had to shake his head in a futile effort to forego that line of thinking. Bane simply continued watching him.

 

The larger man’s next course of action somewhat startled him as the mercenary ran a hand across his cheek, tilted his face towards the side and looked at where the monster hit him. “You’re hurt,” he said frankly as his eyebrows creased in concern. “You have a bruise,” he told the detective.

 

“I… I’m fine,” he replied back, cursing that Bane was this close to his face that he could see him blush. Before Bane could make a smart comment, both men found themselves being engulfed in a tight hug.

 

“You guys are okay!” Oliver cried in relief as he hugged both men at the waists.

 

“Ollie!” John exclaimed happily as he bent down and looked at the boy was still very much in tears. “Are you okay?” he asked to which Oliver just nodded vigorously. John just laughed as he gave the boy a warm hug. “Well I’m glad you’re okay,” he said as he continued to embrace the boy. “Next time, don’t go running off on your own okay?”

 

“I promise!” Oliver cried back as John felt the boy nodding over his shoulder.

 

The sudden sound of the iron grilles moving soon interrupted their little reunion. John broke off the hug and watched, along with Bane and Oliver, the grilles retreating slowly upwards to its starting point. Beyond the sound of the grilles and the howling of the snowstorm outside, the faint sound of a car engine was also in the vicinity.

 

“Hide,” Bane told them as he ushered John and Oliver away from the lobby and into one of the inner hallways. “Up here,” Bane ordered them once they reached the staircase. John didn’t question Bane’s decision this time. The man had proven his knowledge to be extremely valuable time and time again. So if he thought going upstairs was a better idea than retreating into the service hallways on the ground floor, then so be it.

 

Once they reached the mezzanine floor, they all gathered and hid behind one of the bookshelves leaning against the balcony railing. John realized it was a rather strategic vantage point as it allowed them to have a good bird’s eye view of the lobby without being seen.

 

“Ollie. You need to stay quiet,” John told the boy squeezed between him and Bane.

 

“I’m scared John,” Oliver meekly replied.

 

“Bane and I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise,” John said as he rubbed his hand through the boy’s hair to calm him down. That seemed to work as Oliver managed to reel down his sniffles to almost nothing.

 

“What the fuck!?” an unfamiliar voice shouted down at the lobby.

 

John tore his gaze away from Oliver and looked at Bane who was busy peering from one end of the bookshelf. The detective decided to follow Bane by jutting his head ever so slightly from his side of the bookshelf. Down at the entrance of the lobby, he saw a man garbed in winter pants and a blue jacket staring at the beast’s dead body. Quite simply, the man was deliberately unremarkable except for that machine gun in his hands. John’s eyes narrowed as he watched another man in more or less the same attire stroll in through the main entrance.

 

“What’s wrong?” the newly arrived man asked the first guy.

 

“Someone managed to kill the bloater,” first guy said, gesturing at the dead beast at his feet.

 

“Oh shit!” the new guy said as he jogged up to the body. “Oh man. Fuck. Can’t believe they managed to kill one.”

 

“I know,” first guy said, shaking his head in the process. “Look at the cut. No ordinary man could do that.”

 

“Daamnnn,” new guy whistled.

 

“Whoever killed the bloater is definitely dangerous.”

 

“So what do we do now?” new guy asked as he tapped the dead bloater’s body with his machine gun.

 

First guy grabbed a walkie-talkie from his back pocket. “We find whoever killed the bloater and kill him,” he answered before turning his attention back to his walkie-talkie. “Hello? Yeah, we got a situation here in the lobby. Somebody managed to off the bloater… Yeah I know right? Anyway, get half of the men to come inside. We’re going to hunt this motherfucker down. I’m pretty sure he’s still holed up somewhere in here, but just to be sure, get a dozen men to guard the front and rear entrances of the hotel.”

 

“It’s been a while since we got some hunting,” new guy said with demented glee.

 

“Oh yeah,” first guy said as he resumed conversing into the walkie-talkie. “Fuck the snowstorm. Bring out the snipers. If anyone other than us tries to escape, shoot him or her down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. Work's a killer.


	10. Hotel Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sketches to help you understand the layout of the hotel. Sorry, it's been a while. No beta.

John silently watched another pair of looters entering the hotel, bringing the total number of armed men inside the hotel lobby to twenty-two. All of them converged in front of their leader, each one brandishing a look of bewilderment at the sight of the dead bloater under their leader’s feet. The odds certainly were not in their favor as he and Bane were basically outnumbered ten to one. Of course that ratio excluded the possibility of men coming from the rear side of the entrance; however, judging from the group of men in his sight and all the various weapons each one was carrying (one had a suped up baseball bat covered with nails for crying out loud), the three of them were, in plain terms, fucked.

 

“We need to get out of here,” John whispered urgently as he leaned back from their hiding place and turned his attention to Bane. It was obvious the men below them were not friendlies. The last thing he needed was for Oliver to be caught in crossfire between them.

 

Bane simply leaned back, cupped his chin with his right hand, and pondered.

 

The silence from the other man prompted John to take another peek at the group of men gathering below. He saw their leader giving out orders to specific groups with the men scattering off into different directions afterwards.

 

 _Shit!_ John turned around to look at the staircase. The last thing he needed right now was for these men to ambush them at this very moment. “Bane,” he whispered, voice hoarse from the anxiousness building inside of him. “They’re going to get up here soon. We need to move.” As soon as he grabbed Bane’s arm, they heard faint footsteps coming from the nearest staircase. The detective stared at it, waiting for bullets to come at them.

 

His attention was diverted away when it was Bane who grabbed his arm. He turned and saw that Bane and Oliver were already on their feet, with the former looking at him seriously. “Let’s go,” he commanded. “We’ll go upstairs first. I will quietly dispatch them one by one until we find a good opening to escape.”

 

Not needing to be told twice, John silently followed, getting up and moving quickly away from view. He and Bane carefully made their way to the opposite staircase, avoiding stepping on anything noisy. Once there, Bane hugged the wall, his bolo out and ready as he tiptoed up the stairs towards the next floor. John nudged Oliver to follow suit as he, himself, completed the rear.

 

By the time all of them reached the floor upstairs, they managed to hear some murmurs and talking happening below. That meant the men were closing in with their pursuit… and fast.

 

Bane waved a hand in front of John’s face to snap the detective out of his stupor. John slightly jumped back from the sudden movement. He glared at Bane, only to see the large man point up with his finger, indicating that it was not safe to stay on this floor. With a nod, John followed Bane upwards, but never keeping his eyes off downstairs.

 

John had heard stories of Hotel Hello back when he was still on the force. He had heard stories from his superiors how beautiful it was whenever some of them stayed overnight for the annual recognition of Gotham’s finest police officers. He remembered how the bedrooms were elegantly covered in tasteful wallpaper, how fluffy and soft the bed was, how everything was so spotless clean. As he followed Bane into an open bedroom, the sad realization of how badly things got after the infection outbreak was staring directly at him.

 

Now, everything was just… _wrong._ The wallpapers were clawed apart, making the stains of the red blood noticeable. Furniture were turned inside and out. Glass shards scattered around the floor, along with junk pieces of paper, plastic, and fabric. In short, it looked pretty much dead. The only thing “alive” in this room was the drapes billowing against the window because of the breeze outside.

 

A window that Bane just used to exit.

 

“Bane!” John snapped, as he marched up the window. _Did that man just go out a window on the third floor?!_ “Bane!” John repeated as he bent down and poked his head outside.

 

“John, get out here now,” Bane said a few feet away from him, arms crossed against his chest.

 

 _What the?_ John wondered as he stared ahead, dumbfounded that Bane hadn’t plummeted to his death yet. Upon closer inspection and scrutiny, he saw that Bane was standing on a relatively sizeable ledge that wrapped around this part of the hotel. It was difficult to exactly point out its usage because of the thick patch of snow laying on top it, but judging from the wilting trees on it, John deduced it was most likely nothing more than a wide planting strip.

 

 

 

 

Seeing that John wasn’t following his direction, Bane swiftly marched up to the other man and yanked him outside with great force causing the detective to come crashing down face first on the snowy ground. John spat out a chunk of snow as he slowly raised his head, ready for Bane to have it when he saw Bane carrying Oliver over and shushing both of them.

 

“What?” he asked.

 

“There’s a guy inside,” Oliver whispered at him as the boy settled behind Bane, hiding from view. That caught John’s attention completely.

 

“Is it true?”

 

Bane looked down at him and raised a finger to silence him. Without saying another word, the mercenary silently crept back inside through the open window and disappeared from John’s sight.

 

The budding anxiousness within him had John crawling up to the window. He placed his fingers on top of the windowsill as he slowly raised his neck to peek inside. The moment his eyes got a view of the interiors, he saw Bane grab a man from behind and snapping his neck with ease. The crisp sound of the bones breaking made John momentarily recoil from the window.

 

“What’s happening John?” Oliver whispered beside him. “Are we safe?”

 

He couldn’t answer back because he was too busy staring at Bane walking back to them while carrying a dead body on his shoulders. John had to move out of the way as Bane threw the looter’s lifeless body out the window and down to the ground below. John and Oliver both peered over the ledge as they mutely watched the body plop down on the snow a number of floors below them. The next thing he knew, something warm was draped over his head. He pulled whatever was on top of him and realized it was a blanket.

 

“Get yourselves warm,” he heard Bane say behind him. “It’ll be safer for you two to stay out of sight while I dispatch more of these looters.”

 

“Bane, it’s not safe,” John replied, looking at Bane. “You can’t go in there alone!”

 

“And we can’t have Oliver be exposed to unnecessary danger either.”

 

“That’s not-”

 

“I’m going to be faster without you two behind me,” Bane replied, tone firm and commandeering. “The sooner I go, the sooner we can escape from this hellhole.”

 

John angrily stared at Bane in defiance. A few seconds later, he sighed and settled down underneath the windowsill. He knew there was nothing he could say to make Bane change his mind. Plus, now really wasn’t the time for arguing… not when they were in immediate danger.

 

He retrieved the blanket a feet away and draped it over his body. He then looked to his left, opened up the blanket and beckoned Oliver to come closer. “Come on, let’s get warm.”

 

 

-

 

 

“John, I’m cold.”

 

“I know. I know Ollie. Me too,” John said as he hugged the boy tighter. The cold wind whipped through his face once again, causing his teeth to chatter. Once Bane left to go on with his killing spree, John managed to retrieve the blankets from the nearby bedrooms. Sadly, added blankets did little to relieve them from the cold of the storm. Even though he was extremely cold, he was still thankful at this point since the storm had managed to calm down a bit.

 

“I’m… going to fu.. fu… fuhreeze,” Oliver cried as he rubbed his arms around his body underneath the thick layers of blankets.

 

John looked down and frowned at the sight of Oliver suffering from the cold. Back in the orphanage, it broke his heart whenever he saw a little boy suffering from any sort of pain and discomfort and by now, he’s treating Oliver like one of his boys from Swithin’s. When Oliver shuddered again, John finally decided it was finally time to go inside.

 

“Okay. Just wait a bit longer,” he told Oliver as he got out from the warmth of the blankets. “I’m going to go inside and check if the coast is clear,” he added as he proceeded to crawl back into the bedroom.

 

That alarmed Oliver who was also on his feet. “Bane said to wait here!”

 

“Ollie,” John started as he looked Oliver dead straight in the eyes. “You and I are going to freeze to death if we stay there for another half hour. I’m sure Bane has managed to deal with the looters downstairs. I’m going to check so we can finally get out of here and actually look for a place that is safe, okay?”

 

The boy blinked a couple of times before finally processing everything that John said. He silently nodded his head in response.

 

“Good. Now stay here until I tell you it’s safe,” John said as he finally succeeded in getting his whole body inside. He turned around and waited for a couple of seconds before crossing the bed and television counter as he tiptoed out into the hallway. By the time he was at the foyer, he heard Oliver shouting behind him.

 

“John, look out!!!”

 

John turned around at the sound of Oliver’s scream to see a bearded man from the adjoining bedroom stomping towards him. John’s eyes widened at shock over what the looter was carrying. He was wielding a baseball bat laced with nails and was just about to swing it down on the detective’s face.

 

Out of instinct and sheer luck, John managed to duck down to the right, narrowly avoiding the deadly impact. The sudden movement had him off balance, causing him to crash into the wooden closet doors. He slightly bounced off them from the sheer force of his collision.

 

He barely had time to get himself together when he had to duck forward to miss another swing from his attacker. John covered his head with his hands as he heard the bat hitting the closets with so much power that it actually went through the doors, spraying the floor and John’s backside with small splinters of wood, a loud crack filling the room.

 

 _Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! That was fucking close!_ John internally screamed. Any fraction of a second later and his head would have been salad by now. He looked back up at his attacker and found him pulling his baseball bat from inside the hole he made in the closet. He had a wicked gleam in his eyes, deranged and utterly mad as he bared his toothy, yellow teeth at John. That smile had John’s legs run on autopilot as he scrambled up from the floor to try and put up as much distance as he could from him and this man.

 

Once on his feet, John retrieved his knife and faced his attacker. The man momentarily stopped and stared at him before letting out a hefty laugh. No doubt because of how pathetic it looked to combat a deadly nailed bat with a measly knife.

 

“You think that’s gonna stop me boy?” the man snarled as he stroked his bat with his ripped, knitted gloves. John answered back by slightly crouching and stretching out his knife out at him. When the man saw that John wasn’t going down without a fight, he grinned back at him. “I’m going to _enjoy_ killing you,” he calmly said before bringing his bat vertically down at John. “ _And_ that little boy of yours!” he growled.

 

Thankfully, the detective saw that coming as he took a step to his left, hitting the television counter in the process. The man followed up his attack by swinging his bat up from the floor towards John who once again managed to dodge at the very last second. Instead of hitting him, the man’s bat connected with the television itself, leaving his bat stuck inside. “Fuck!” he snarled as he desperately tried to tug his bat out of the television screen.

 

John took that small window of opportunity to duck under the man and stab him in the gut. He gritted his teeth as he mercilessly plunged his knife deeper into the man until his hilt connected with the man’s skin. “You. Are. Not. Hurting. Ollie!” he snarled as he twisted his knife, causing the man to howl in pain. John looked up and saw the man gargling out blood, his grip on the baseball bat slowly coming undone. The detective then got up, grabbed the man’s head and slammed it down the television counter. As soon as the man’s face connected with the hard surface John knew it was over. The sound of his head snapping reaffirmed that point. Soon, the looter slumped down lifeless on the bedroom floor with a steady amount of blood pouring out underneath him.

 

“You are _not_ hurting him,” John repeated as he looked down at the looter with so much contempt, his breathing fast and uneasy.

 

Oliver’s head soon peeked from outside the window and surveyed the scene. “Oh wow John! You showed him!” he exclaimed with awe, clapping his hands together at John’s victory. Before John could respond, they both heard someone shouting from somewhere on the floor.

 

“Aiden you here?!?” a voice called out.

 

John looked at Oliver and waved his right hand down, gesturing the little boy to stay out of sight. Oliver nodded his head before disappearing. Once he was sure the boy was safely hidden, John slowly crept to the bedroom door and carefully peeked into the hallway.

 

That voice sounded too loud for his comfort. Another looter must be lurking nearby.

 

Save for a number of overthrown furniture and litters of trash, John didn’t really see anyone lurking about in the hallways. That was until he heard the same voice calling out again.

 

“Aiden! Where the fuck are you??!”

 

John waited and from across the hallway, saw a man walking from behind the elevators. The man was brandishing a rifle in his hand as he called out, looking for someone named Aiden. As the man’s tone got more and more aggravated, John chanced another glance back into the bedroom to stare at the body of his earlier assailant. The detective was pretty sure he had a good inkling who Aiden was and why he was not answering back.

 

“Aiden! You better not be sneaking a smoke again!” the man called out again, this time louder in tone.

 

When John snuck a peek outside, his assumption was true as he found the man walking down his side of the hallway only to stop a few feet away from John’s bedroom door. The man then turned around, giving John a perfect opportunity to sneak an attack on him. If he was quick enough about it, he could easily put the man to sleep with a surprise choke from behind. Deciding that he’d rather have the advantage of a preemptive strike, John slowly snuck his way out into the hall. No sooner had he taken three steps did he hear another unfamiliar voice down the hall.

 

“Hey Cole! Did you find him yet?”

 

“Not yet. Dumbass must be smoking another joint in one of the rooms again!” the man standing a few feet away from John hollered.

 

 _Uh oh._ John thought as he scampered back into the bedroom. He pressed his back against the wall as he studied the situation. Okay, miscalculation. There’s more than one looter out there at the moment. He breathed one long sigh at the thought of confronting more than one possible enemy at the same time. With the amount of looters roaming through the lower floors, the last thing he wants to do is grab the attention of the entire army and have all of them on their asses.

 

“Fuck. Where is he?” the man nearby growled.

 

Noticing that the voice was getting more and more louder, John leaned towards the door and quickly peeked out into the hallway. He saw the bearded man walking down the hall, peeking inside every bedroom door that he passed by. In a minute or two, he’d arrive at John’s room and see Aiden lying down in a pool of blood inside. Once the man spots the body, he’d no doubt alert everyone that John and Oliver were on this floor.

 

The prospect of moving the body was high, but the reality of it was looking very bleak. Simply put, there was not enough time to hide the body and clean up at the blood. Running on autopilot, John made his way back into the room and up to the television counter. He yanked the baseball bat out from the television, grabbed a few shards of glass and threw them on the foyer before settling down beside the broken closet. As John crouched there, he firmly held the nailed baseball bat like his life depended on it.

 

John heard a loud bump in the next room. He concluded the man just kicked the adjacent bedroom door down and checking what was inside. That meant, the looter would be entering his room next.

 

A bead of sweat ran down his cheek, his hands getting sweaty underneath his gloves. Footsteps approached only to abruptly stop shortly afterwards.

 

He had found Aiden.

 

“Shit!” a voice called out just outside the bedroom door. “Aiden!”

 

John slowly got up as he listened to the assailant’s footsteps cracking the glass shards he scattered earlier. The detective kept his eyes glued down on the floor as he positioned his newly acquired weapon at his left. His eyes widened at the sight of the man’s boots crossing the metal strip between the tiled foyer and the wooden floor of the room. No sooner had the man’s boot touched the wooden floor, John leapt out from his hiding place while swinging the bat upwards.

 

The bat perfectly connected as the nails impaled the man on the head, effectively killing him on impact. John swung the weapon with so much force that the man’s head hit the nearby wall hard, splattering the beige walls with streaks of blood before leaving one single, heavy, trail downwards as the man’s dead body slumped down to the floor.

 

“Shit…” John said in between breaths as he looked down at his new victim. He stared at the dead man, the baseball bat still lodged on the man’s head. The bat’s nails entangled with the man’s hair as blood rapidly poured out of the man’s fractured skull, leaving a grotesque, gory painting. John’s eyes followed the stream of blood traveling through the tiled floor, his thoughts a muddle.

 

He’s killed two people now. Not infected, these were actual human beings. The first one was purely out of self-defense, which was somewhat reasonable to a certain degree. This latest one; however, was done purely out of cold blood. The realization of his actions made his knees wobbly, his throat parched, his head aching as one train of thought stayed in his mind: John, you are _now_ a murderer.

 

His knees buckled underneath him, forcing him to lean against the wall for support. He tilted his head back until the back of his head connected with the wall as he stared at the ceiling, his head running a million conflicting thoughts. He’s no better than the looters out patrolling the streets nor the soldiers back in the quarantine zone slaughtering people. How could he face his boys now? How could he look at his attackers and be disgusted beyond relief when at the end of they day, he too had killed to survive? John had prided himself with the notion that just because Gotham is under siege from inexplicable zombies does not give anyone the right to simply toss their humanity out the window. And now… well… it’s begun to be complicated.

 

_There’s only one way to fix this._

 

John straightened out his posture and stormed through the bedroom and out the window, determination brimming inside of him. As soon as he landed out into the garden patio, Oliver looked up from his hiding place looking confused.

 

“Is it over?” he asked John as he rubbed his hands together for warmth.

 

“It will be. As soon as we get out of here,” John told Oliver as he patted the boy on the head.

 

“What about Bane?” Oliver asked, his eyebrows furrowing at the thought of leaving their number one defender behind.

 

“We’re going to go get him,” John answered quickly, not missing a beat. That answer seemed to please the little boy as he smiled and nodded his head. John gave a small chuckle at his enthusiasm. “Now, let’s go. Stick very close to me, okay? We’re going to need to avoid running into any of these looters.”

 

Oliver answered with a quick nod of the head.

 

“Good, okay. Let’s go.”

 

John crawled onto the opposite side of the outdoor garden, the side of the hotel where the fire exit staircases were found. With any luck, he and Oliver wouldn’t run into any looters on the way down. Especially at the rear side of the hotel. John helped Oliver cross the window and into the bedroom across the stairs. It was looking good so far, not running into any of the men loitering around in the hall. Both of them needed to hurry though. Those men would find the two dead bodies soon enough.

 

They slowly made their way towards the hallway, making sure to refrain from making any unnecessary noises in the process. Once they reached the door, John signaled Oliver to stand back in case there were any nearby looters prowling the immediate hall outside. The bedroom door gave a small croak as John slowly pushed it open. He was cringing at the sound. He deliberately paused midway, making sure the damn door wasn’t attracting any unwanted attention. Thankfully for the both of them, it seemed that luck was on their side… for now.

 

Once John had the bedroom door open big enough for him to pass through, he slipped quietly into the hall before ushering Oliver to follow him. Both of them hid behind a large sofa and a bulky console table as they made their way into the staircase.

 

Unfortunately, their good luck ended here.

 

The moment John and Oliver stood on top of this floor’s stairway, ready to descend below, a looter was on his way up the landing. Both men locked eyes onto each other, leaving a few seconds of standstill permeating between them. Once the initial shock wore off, the looter raised his handgun at John and fired three bullets at him. He badly missed as John ducked behind the nearby sofa.

 

“I found them!” the man hollered as he glanced down at the floor below him. “They’re on the third floor!” he added before turning his attention back at the detective. The moment he looked up, a bullet from John’s gun pierced him right on the forehead. John had shot him from behind the protection of the sofa. He fell down the stairs soon after.

 

Even though he killed the man, the damage has been done. John stood up in alarm as angry screams filled the lower floors.

 

 

“John! Behind us!” Oliver screamed as he frantically ran up the staircase in pure terror.

 

John turned around and saw the remaining looter on this floor charging at them from a distance. He was hauling a pickaxe over his head. John quickly fired at him, killing him before he managed to get in too close.

 

“Oliver?!?” John called out as he looked up the staircase. The lack of a response from the little boy and the angry screaming that was getting louder and louder sent shivers down his spine. “Shit. Shit. SHIIIITTTTT!” he cried out as he raced up the staircase to find Oliver before someone else does.

 

“Oliver!!!” John shouted out, thoroughly ignoring the fact that his incessant shouting would no doubt attract attention. If something happened to the boy, he would never live it down.

 

As soon as he reached the next floor, John stopped running. He paced around for a few short seconds as he ran his hand through his hair in exasperation. _Did Oliver stop here? Or did he go up another floor? Oh my god_. “Fuck!” he swore over this crucial moment of indecision. Deciding to go with his gut, he ran up towards the next floor.

 

“Oh thank god!” John said in relief as he arrived on the fifth floor. His luck seemed to arrive in the most opportune times. The staircase going up to the sixth floor was blocked with a number of furniture, which meant Oliver certainly couldn’t have gotten very far. The boy was either on this floor or on the floor below him. Right now though, he was hoping for the former.

 

John jogged through the fifth floor hallways looking for any signs of the kid, taking time to reload his gun with a few more bullets just in case a large group of looters swarm him. As soon as he passed the first elevator car, he heard some heavy duty stomping from his left. He turned his head just in time to see a stocky, bald looter tackle him down to the ground.

 

The forceful impact had him releasing his grip on his gun as he crashed on the ground with the looter on top of him. John didn’t know whether he was thankful this particular one had no weapon because half a second later, two very large hands were wrapped around his neck, strangling him. John tried to kick and flail around, but the man had an advantageous position over him, preventing the detective’s limbs from making any noticeable damage.

 

The looter gritted his teeth as choked the life out of him. John, on his part, tried to gauge the man’s eyes out, but the man simply raised his neck out of the detective’s reach. John choked, feeling the last bit of air draining out from his lungs as his flailing slowly winded down.

 

“Get away from him!” a childish voice behind the burly looter shouted before John heard something breaking in the distance.

 

The next thing John knew, his attacker was off him so suddenly. John scrambled away from the man as he breathed in huge breaths to compensate for that almost disastrous encounter. When he looked up from the floor, he saw Oliver clinging on the man’s back jabbing his head with a broken bottle.

 

“O… Oliver?” John cried out, voice hoarse.

 

The looter growled as he tried to reach behind him to grab the kid. Oliver was hanging onto the man’s hoodie like a cowboy was riding a bull. The looter couldn’t get a good grip on the boy.

 

John, still very much out of breath, crawled to the side to retrieve his gun. Once he had it in his hand, he turned around and aimed it at the man. Before he could shoot though, Bane suddenly appeared from inside the rooms and slashed his bolo across the man’s chest. The looter cried out in pain, clutching his bleeding chest before falling down on to the floor. Bane grabbed Oliver by his yellow hood in midair before settling him down on the ground and approached John.

 

“You okay?” the masked man asked as he held out a hand towards John.

 

“Where the fuck _were_ you?” John answered through a question of his own, grabbing Bane’s hand and allowing himself to be hauled off the floor.

 

“Explain later, firstly we need to go now,” Bane said as he strolled off, leaving John and Oliver to pick up the rear. “They’re marching up the staircases in droves. I won’t be able to stop them alone. One of them is carrying a rocket launcher.”

 

 _Holy shit._ “So what now? We can’t just barge our way downstairs. Not with Oliver.”

 

“I know,” Bane replied as he stopped in front of one of the elevator cab, staring at it with unbridled glee.

 

John picked that up quickly. “Bane… what are you planning?”

 

“Watch my back,” he ordered before stepping forward and pulled the elevator door open.

 

“Bane?” John asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He watched Bane use his strength to pry the doors open enough for the large man to slip through. What the hell is this guy planning? Once Bane was done, John tilted his head to get a good look inside the elevator chute.

 

It seemed that the elevator cab was one floor below them. If they enter the chute, they’ll be stepping on the roof the cab. He’s not planning on riding this thing down, is he? Still not figuring out the masked man’s plan, John looked at Bane who had his attention turned on Oliver. “Come on, inside,” he said as he ushered the kid inside.

 

“Whoa. Bane. What are you planning exactly?” John demanded as he stepped in between the larger man and the elevator door.

 

“The swimming pool is directly above us. I checked the hotel map and the pool deck has a large open space. We can use that floor to cross to a rooftop of another building,” Bane answered.

 

John had to blink to digest that information. “I’m sorry… what?”

 

“You heard me John. All of the staircases leading to the next floor are blocked, which means the only way up is through the elevator. Now we don’t have enough time, move!” Bane said as he gently pushed John out of the way and entered inside the elevator chute along with Oliver.

 

“Bane! Wait!” John shouted as he followed both of his companions into the chute. “Will you- whoa!” he stammered off as he wobbled on top of the cab.

 

“Careful! This isn’t that sturdy. The cold has managed to freeze the wires of this thing. The elevator wouldn’t be able to travel here all the way from the ground without weakening the wires. And before you ask because I can see it on your face, we won’t be able to ride it downstairs without crashing into the basement,” Bane said as he stared into John’s eyes before turning deadly serious. “And you know what’s down at the basement.”

 

That statement convinced John completely. “Okay. I get it. So, how do we do about this?” he asked as he cautiously walked his way up to Bane and Oliver.

 

“Wait here,” Bane told him. The mercenary looked around, studying the layout of the chute before jumping up and grabbing an exposed beam a few feet up. He then gracefully maneuvered his way up the chute, vaulting from one beam to the other with so much ease. John had to admit he was more than impressed.

 

“Wowww!” Oliver exclaimed in awe as he watched Bane stand in front of the next floor’s elevator doors. “Isn’t he cool?” the boy asked John, eyes filled with admiration.

 

Before John could answer, he heard the sound of steel doors slowly opening. He looked up and saw that Bane was once again opening the next floor’s elevator doors. The mercenary managed to do so with ease.

 

“He is something else Ollie,” he replied nonchalantly as he watched Bane successfully open the doors and slipping through the sixth floor hallway. There was a very brief moment of an empty hallway before Bane’s head and body came into view. The larger man bent down on the floor and outstretched his left arm downwards.

 

“Okay John, help boost Oliver up.”

 

“Right,” John replied. He walked up to the edge of the cab and placed his hands right in front of his knees as a means to spring the boy up. “Come on Ollie. We won’t have enough time,” he said as he looked at the boy who refused to move.

 

“Wait! I… I’m scared!” Oliver said. “I don’t want to fall!”

 

“There’s no time to be scared Ollie. Bane will catch you I promise!” John reassured him.

 

Bane, sensing that Oliver was having second thoughts, added, “I promise.”

 

Oliver looked at both men who nodded and smiled at him. He walked his way up to John and climbed on top of him.

 

John used his hands to bring Oliver up to Bane who easily caught him. Once Oliver was through, Bane turned his attention back at John. “Okay John, your turn,” he said as he outstretched his arms towards the detective. As soon as John was about to jump, he was interrupted by voices from outside the hallway.

 

“They’re in here!”

 

John turned around and widened his eyes as he saw looters gathering around the hallway a few feet away.

 

“Get the RPG ready!” he heard one of the men say.

 

 _RPG? What?_ He looked up at Bane in panic. All his time with Bane, he never expected the masked man to share the same emotion: one of utter fear and desperation.

 

“John now. JUMP NOW!” Bane shouted as he gestured with his outstretched hand for the detective to hurry.

 

“John you can do it!” Oliver shouted beside Bane. He was also looking down at John, tears running down his face in terror. “You can’t die! We still need to find my sister!”

 

“FUCK!” John said before proceeding to follow Bane’s order. Before his feet could even lift off the cab roof, a really loud explosion rang out on the elevator cab doors. The doors came flying inside, slicing the cables on one end before falling down into the darkness below.

 

“BANEEE!!” John screamed as he slid down the cab. He tried reaching and clawing at anything around him that would stop him from falling. As his feet went over the edge of the cab and dangled helplessly in the air, John managed to get a good grip on the cab’s edge.

 

“John! Are you okay?” Bane called out, looking absolutely worried.

 

“What the fuck _do you_ think?!?!” John screamed back as he tried to pull himself up the tilted cab. He had half of his body up when he heard gunshots spraying from outside the hall. The sound startled John so much that he almost lost his grip on the elevator cab.

 

“John! Stay calm!” Bane shouted above him.

 

“Believe me, I am _calm_ as can be!” he shouted sarcastically as turned his head away from the commotion, eyes closed in the process.

 

The detective was too preoccupied with the gunfire that he didn’t hear the remaining cables snapping. The next thing John knew was that his hands were not holding onto anything anymore and that he was falling down chute at an alarming rate. Once the realization that he was plummeting to his death, John screamed along with Bane and Oliver who were getting smaller and smaller in his eyes until they finally disappeared from view and was engulfed in total darkness. The only time he stopped screaming was when he his back connected to a hard patch of snow and causing him to roll out into the darkness. He heard the loud crash of the elevator nearby before passing out from exhaustion, but not before hearing the clicking and belching sounds present in the darkness around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John's survival depends on your kudos and comments. You don't want him to die, do you? You heartless bastards.


	11. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta

 

That was the first thing that John felt when he slowly opened his eyes. Upon doing so, he got slightly alarmed that it was pitch black. The darkness was making him uneasy and anxious. He didn’t know exactly where he was at the moment, but after that long tumble, he had a pretty good idea that he was probably somewhere down in the basements. Just what floor exactly, that was something he still needed to figure out.

 

Another jolt of pain emanated from his lower body, disrupting John from his thoughts. As he tried to move his legs, seething pain rang through his body again. He curled his fingers, grasping the snow underneath them in vain attempt to control the pain. It was coming from his left leg and was able to confirm that when he tried to move that particular body part. He shakily reached down and discovered that the pants over his left leg was damp from some sort liquid. With a sense of foreboding looming over his head, he coated his finger with it before bringing it up to his nose for a whiff. He silently said as he sniffed at his fingers one more time. Its scent did not change. Just as he feared, his leg was apparently bleeding. From what, he didn’t know, but he sure as hoped nothing bit him.

 

He tried moving his left leg again, eliciting the still the same reaction. This time, the agony was beyond terrible that it had him gritting his teeth and hissing in pain. He clawed the snow underneath his fingers, desperate to find something else to transfer the pain he was feeling onto something else. After he cried out from the agony, John immediately heard some growling somewhere in the darkness. Clicking sounds soon turned up its volume.

 

 _Shit! Shit!_ Clickers were approaching him, and judging from the loudness of their clicks, they were approaching fast.

 

John raised his upper body off the snowy ground and on autopilot went to turn on his flashlight that was hooked to his one of his rucksack’s straps. He found himself laying face down on the ground. Several feet away from the elevator shaft, with his flashlight just barely touching them, were half a dozen clickers lumbering around, jerking their body and limbs as they proceeded down to his direction.

 

He was fucked.

 

John took that opportunity to initially get a good look at his injured leg. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell much. All he could see was his trousers stained with a large blotch of blood. Without taking his pants off, he really wouldn’t be able to assess the extent of damage. Of course, he certainly couldn’t do that now with infected steadily marching up to him.

 

Not wanting to waste anymore time, John decided to fuck it as he slowly pushed himself off the ground. It took all his willpower to prevent himself from crying out in pain. He stood up quite wobbly, putting his entire weight on his right leg. This is not going to be a walk in the park.

 

Once he looked onward again, the clickers were still onto his trail as they closed in on him. Two of the closets ones were coming swiftly at him, spaced a few feet apart. Both of them had their hands outstretched, blindly flailing them around in hopes of latching onto their prey. These two, along with the rest behind them were closing the gap very, _very_ quickly.

 

John stood there utterly paralyzed, not much from fear itself but rather from indecisiveness. He was in a grave situation. If he were to move from his spot, he would be half dragging his wounded left leg across the snow in the process. This meant he would not be able to make a clean and quiet getaway. The clickers would still be on his tail, following the sound of snow shuffling underneath his feet.

 

On the other hand, if he were to stay still in hopes of avoiding noise, the clickers would eventually reach him and he would be forced to kill them. That was _also_ problematic because not only does he risk the chance of being bitten, but he is also restrained to using his knife as his sole weapon being that it does not make any noise compared to his gun.

 

Either way, it reinforces his earlier statement: He was still, very much so, _fucked._

 

As John contemplated his course of action, he spotted a bottle of wine half submerged in the snow just a couple of yards away. Why there was a wine bottle in the basements, he wouldn’t know, but as he stood there staring at it, the bottle managed to give the detective an idea.

 

Yes, an idea that Bane would commend him for.

 

He just hoped it would work.

 

Without wasting any more time, John dove to his right and snatched the neck of the wine bottle. The noise of his movement alerted the band of clickers as they growled furiously hastening their pace in the process. John then, with all his might, threw the wine bottle across the floor. It collided with the steel elevator door, exploding into bits of pieces before falling down onto the ground.

 

Just as he initially hoped, John’s plan worked. All the clickers, upon hearing the bottle breaking, instantaneously changed their direction of attack. They now charged towards the direction of the elevators, leaving a line of spit oozing out from their mouths down on the ground. John then took that opportunity to distance himself from the clickers as much as possible. Once the clickers were well far from him, he limped his way off to the left and made his way towards the nearest staircase, passing a couple of abandoned cars on the way.

 

_Okay, so I’m in the parking lots. At least I know where I am._

 

As he made his way across the deserted parking lot, he would pick up anything remotely breakable along the way and chuck it somewhere far in the dark in hopes of masking the noise he was making while walking. It seemed to be working as he heard in the dark, the clicker’s growls and clicks varying in loudness. They were too preoccupied with the glasses, bottles, bricks he was throwing to notice him. He was lucky enough to be able to reach the staircase without any incident.

 

Sadly, upon touching the staircase’s handrail, his injury decided to flare up once again, with his left leg burning with an excruciating amount of pain. The detective clutched his injury tightly, trying to somehow contain the pain again. But it was too much. His legs soon buckled and found himself crashing down on the staircase.

 

John let out a silent howl as he tried to get back up on his feet. Sweat fell down from his brow as he clawed himself up the stairs whilst trying his best to ignore the pain.

 

The only thing keeping John from fighting the pain was his refusal to the idea of dying here in this hell of a hotel. His mind was suddenly bombarded of all the people that were waiting for him up on the streets. Several people flashed through his mind, but there was one person that periodically came back. And that person was upstairs with Oliver.

 

_Bane._

 

 _I am not giving up!_ John told himself as he forced himself to stand up on the staircase landing. _I am not going to die here!_

 

Once successfully on his feet, John turned his flashlight up the staircase as he prepared to make his way up to whatever floor Bane and Oliver were in. The last thing he expected was a runner charging at him from on top of the staircase and knocking him down.

 

Before he could get himself off the ground, the detective soon found a male runner on top of him. It stared at him evilly with its deranged, blood shot eyes while attempting to claw John’s face off. Thankfully for John, his quick reflexes had his left elbow up just in time to stop the runner by more than a few inches away from his face.

_Get off me!!!_ He shouted silently as he tried shoving the runner off of him. The runner was too strong and unruly to be pushed away. Upon realizing that its long fingernails weren’t connecting with its victim’s face, the runner simply howled louder, causing saliva to rain down on John’s face.

 

While pinned under the runner, John heard clicks down below. Realization hit him as he looked up at the runner with despair. The runner’s growling was attracting the attention of the clickers downstairs.

 

John tried shoving the runner off of him with more force and power. Still, it was no use. In fact, the runner seemed to be inching its deadly face closer to his. 


 

John needed to end this soon. If this runner didn’t kill him, the clickers approaching him would.

 

From the corner of his eye, John saw his knife lying just a bit out of reach to his right. He tried leaning his body to the right as he outstretched his hand, desperately trying to grab it. He shouted in pain when the runner scratched his cheek. He was quickly being overpowered. If he doesn’t get that knife soon, it’ll be all over.

 

As the runner slowly inched his way closer to John’s face, John used every last bit of his flexibility to get a hold on that knife of his. Once his fingers grasped its handle, he plunged it deep on the right side of the runner’s head, killing it instantly. Blood splattered down on the detective’s face as soon as his knife connected with the runner’s head. The runner’s eyes went wide from shock. Its mouth choking on the last remnants of its growls as its strength slowly waned down allowing John to push the runner off of him.

 

As the runner lay down next to him in its dying state, John got on top of it and stared it down. The runner was on the verge of its last dying breaths, blood steadily pouring out of its wound. Without a second thought, the detective raised his arms and stabbed the runner on the face. He then stabbed him a second time and then a third until he realized he stopped taking count. Bloodlust got the better of the detective as he continued hacking away at the runner’s face. It was only when his knife slipped from underneath his fingers did he stop. He watched his knife slid a few inches across the bloodstained floor then turned his attention to the runner underneath him. Its face was mangled beyond recognition as it lay there swimming in a deep pool of crimson.

 

He did not just _kill_ the runner; he absolutely _murdered_ it.

 

And it was only then did he realize that he was crying.

 

John slowly backed away from the dead body, surprised of the tears falling down the side of his face. His back soon hit the wall of the landing, causing him to stop and stare. He was distraught not because of the fact that he was crying, but because he didn’t know why he was in the first place. Try as he might, he could not justify it. All he could think of was that he was possibly at his breaking point and that he snapped.

 

To be fair, that wasn’t a far and unfair assumption. He’s amazed he’s managed to stay as calm and collected that long with all the fuckery happening around Gotham. Surely it was just a matter of time until he lost it. He just didn’t expect it to happen _here._

 

The sound of clicks piqued his attention. His struggle with the runner had attracted the horde’s attention. The clickers were on to his trail once again. Now John did not know whether or not the clickers could go up stairs. Given the fact that they were blind from the mutation of the infection, based on common sense, they really shouldn’t be able to; however, John did not want to take any chances. Wiping his tears away, he limped his way up the staircase and on to the floor above. The moment he arrived on the next floor, another sound drowned the clickers’ sounds out.

 

And it was one that sent chills down John’s spine.

 

Unlike the parking floor below, this time there were a few emergency lights functioning in the dark. Standing underneath these was a silhouette of a very, large figure. It was shambling to and fro with its large body, the ground shaking from its weight. “This can’t be happening,” John mouthed silently. He watched the large figure convulse before excreting gas from its body. _Why must you give me a bloater, now of all places?!_

 

Before he could step any further, more figures appeared into the light, this time smaller and more agile than the bloater. “Great… just great,” John murmured to himself, switching his flashlight off in the process as he stared at the various runners prowling beside the bloater. “More infected. Just what I needed.” The runners, it seemed were unaffected by the bloater’s poisonous gas. They merely loitered around the large infected before dipping back into the shadows once again. John kept his gaze on them as he slowly walked his way towards the steps heading up to the next floor, never once turning his back on them.

 

As he took a glance up the stairs to check if the coast was clear, he got upset. Once more, the staircase was blocked. John narrowed his eyes at the amount of snow before him. He was snowed in.

 

“You have _got_ to be kidding me.”

 

Anger and frustration started to rise inside him. _How am I supposed to get out of here now?!?_ John wondered. He turned around and gazed at the bloater across the floor. The idea that he had to fight a bloater alone petrified him. He and Bane both had a difficult time dealing with the first one back in the lobby. He couldn’t imagine how he could kill this one without the mercenary’s help.

 

_Surely, there must be another way…_

 

John cocked his head slightly forward and stared at the other end of the parking lot. There was another staircase there. He was hoping that one wasn’t snowed in. It may be a bit of a hard walk, given he had an injured leg, but he’d rather take his chances with that scenario than confronting a bloater and perhaps, a few dozen runners by himself.

 

But first things first, he needed to bandage his leg.

 

If he were to continue on, he needed to ease off the pain of his injury, along with the bleeding. He returned his gaze down the hall and saw underneath the hallway’s emergency lights were a couple of vacant rooms along the way. With his knife armed and ready, John cautiously worked his way up to them and slipped inside the nearest open one quietly.

 

The room he was in had no light, so John had to switch his flashlight on. Once light was brimming from the straps of his rucksack, he saw that he was in some sort of small office. There was a lone, long desk positioned at the very center of the room. Surrounding the desk were a number of tall filing cabinets, not all of them standing upright. Documents and were strewn all over the place coupled with pieces of broken furniture. And as John directed his flashlight upwards, he saw a large amount of dried blood splattered on the ceiling. The detective didn’t even want to fathom how _that_ got up there.

 

The throbbing of his leg had him walking towards the desk. He then took his rucksack off and placed it on top of the desk, causing the entire room to be dimly lit. He then hurriedly opened his rucksack and took some bandages from inside. Propping his leg up on the desk, John slowly bandaged himself up. It wasn’t the best medical procedure in the world, but it would do. After all, Bane was the one carrying all the antibiotics. He figured he’d take some later when he successfully rendezvoused with them later on. He had just ripped off the last piece of bandage off his leg when John noticed there was a silhouette lurking just outside the room’s window.

 

 _Crap!_ He thought as he quickly turned his flashlight off, grabbed his bag and hid behind the desk. Slowly, he peeked up from underneath the desk and looked at the silhouette. The light in the hallway showed that a figure was growling outside the office. The window blinds made it difficult for John to truly discern its features, but then again, judging from the lack of clicks, it was another runner. The detective watched the figure approach the door of the office and stumble inside with a lethal growl. It was indeed a runner, a semi-bald, semi-red headed female one at that.  

 

John silently slid back down behind the desk. He gripped his knife with his right hand as he listened to the runner walk around the room in no apparent pattern. John surmised it may just be wandering alone in the dark. The runner’s growls was then suddenly concentrated to his right. John could easily kill it quietly with a small surprise attack of his own. The detective looked around him and saw pieces of glass just a few inches to his left. He grabbed them and quietly slid them to his right and settled just a bit away from the desk. After that, he transferred his knife on his left hand, sat back and waited until the runner walked on his trap.

 

A few seconds later, the sound of glass breaking filled John’s ears. The detective then launched himself up from the floor, twisted his body to the right, and thrust his weapon upwards. Even though his knife failed to connect the runner’s face, it still managed to deliver a fatal blow as it pierced the runner’s throat straight on center. With all his might, John slashed upwards, cutting the runner’s face split into two. The female runner simply fell down backwards. John looked at it briefly before moving on.

 

The sooner he left this place, the better.

 

“Fuck!” John swore, running his hand through his hair in sheer frustration. He was now standing at the other staircase. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he scowled. This one was also snowed in.

 

_I can’t believe it._

_I’m trapped._

_Trapped down here._

 

The realization of just how much of a shitty situation he was in had John hyperventilating. Finding himself out of breath, he placed a hand on the wall while the other clutched his chest. He bowed his head slightly and closed his eyes.

 

 _Okay John… Think happy thoughts. You can do this._ Pictures of the boys, Gotham free of infection, Bane, baseball, his desk at the police station, Bane, coffee, doughnuts, Bane flashed inside his mind. He didn’t realize it then, but whenever Bane entered his mind, his breathing slowed down… _immensely._

 

John let out a huge sigh of relief after he managed to get his breathing back to normal. He slowly opened his eyes and stared down at the floor as he let out slow deep breaths.

 

 _Thank god that was over_.

 

As John positioned himself upright, his right hand brushed upon something on the wall. Curious, he took a step back and flashed his light. He soon found himself staring at a map with braille symbols. Staring at it some more, he found something peculiar.

 

_Could it be?_

 

The detective leaned closer to the map and brushed his fingers against it. He narrowed his eyes as he read it.

 

_But, fuck, it is._

 

Just a few rooms down from his position were the engineering and laundry rooms. And in between them was a service elevator. _If it’s working, I could ride it up to the ground floor._ John shook his head at his wrong assumption. _Of course it would work, the main elevators did bring up a bloater to the lobby earlier._

 

John traced his current position on the map towards his destination. Once he was able to map it out, he frowned. If he were to use the service elevator, he would need to walk by the main elevator lobbies. That meant he needed to slip by the bloater _and_ other runners unseen. A risky plan considering he was not sure just how much more infected were hidden in the shadows, but he had no choice. If he wanted to get off this floor, he needed to use one of the elevators and the service elevator was the safest choice among all of them.

 

 _I am not going to die here. Not today!_ John told himself as his eyes burned with determination. He then peeked from the staircase towards the direction of the service elevator.

 

The length of the parking curb he was to traverse was dark, with just one emergency light working in its wake. This made things slightly easier. He could use the darkness to his advantage. Not wanting to waste any more time, John turned off his light and ventured off towards the service elevator. Similar to what he had done earlier, he had his back pressed up against the wall as he slowly shimmied his way across. Again, he never took his eyes off the infected gathered at the center of the parking lot. Every time a runner would come into the light, John would pause and pray that he wasn’t seen and would only resume his advance once he was absolutely sure he was in the safe. He was halfway across when he had to stop because of the lone light bulb shining down a foot away from him. If his memory served him correctly, the room to his left would be the laundry room and that room had two doors on both ends.

 

He slowly inched his way backwards towards the door and slowly opened it just wide enough for him to slip inside. As he stepped on to the tiled floor, he gently closed the door behind him before turning his interest on the room itself. It didn’t surprise John that this was derelict as well. The tiles along the floor and the walls were cracked and broken, with some of them actually ripped out from the wall. Washing machines were hauled away from their sockets on the walls and were left at the center of the room. White sheets were hung on top of the machines like some sort of foreboding still of a horror movie. It sent a chill down John’s spine.

 

Perturbed, the detective crouched down and slowly made his way towards the door on the other side, remembering to pick up anything remotely useful along the way. He found a few boxes of matches, some torn up sheets, and apparently, more bottles of alcohol. John was dumbfounded at how casually he was stumbling upon these bottles. He reckoned all the hotel staff must probably alcoholic. Still, he wasn’t about to complain. He probably could use these to make his own version of a Molotov just like what Bane had previously done. Stuffing everything in his backpack, John slowly crept his way towards the second door and peeked outside to check his surroundings.

 

Still huddling around the main elevator lobby were a number of runners darting in and out of the light. John frowned. The bloater was not in his sight, but he was sure it was still around thanks to the belching sounds he could hear.

 

This was problematic.

 

The bloater was the most dangerous infected out there. Not only was it violent and deadly with its poisonous gas, but it was also a tough son of a bitch to kill. Not knowing its exact location complicated things because the last thing John wanted was to run into it while making his way to the service elevator.

 

Big and heavy footsteps, engulfed in green gas, soon made its way into the light. John felt relieved to see the bloater in question coming back into view before screeching and letting out gas once again into its nearby surroundings. With the bloater accounted for, he could continue on and was just about to do so when another puff of green gas appeared from the other end of the elevator lobbies.  

  

The detective stood still in fear. John’s eyes widened as he watched another bloater come into the light followed by another pack of runners.

 

 _Just how many are there?_ Clearly he had vastly underestimated the number of infected on this floor. His heart quickened its beating. The importance of getting the fuck out of here was never more this urgent.

 

John decided to just hightail it. He crossed the engineering room and reached his destination in no time, ignoring all the growls around him. As he stood in front of the service elevator, John pushed the button. When it didn’t respond, he pushed it again. “Come on… Come on… Come on!” he cursed under his breath as he stared up at the elevator lights. He was getting restless and antsy. They weren’t alit. It was out of power. “Shit!” John seethed, pounding on the elevator panel in exasperation. His only way out of this hellhole was now gone.

 

“Noo…” he cried out as he rested his head against the elevator doors.

 

 _Okay, John think. Isn’t there a way to power this up? Surely there must be a way to make this elevator work? Wait… power… power!_ John straightened up and turned around.

 

_That’s it. The engineering room should have a generator on standby. That should make it work!_

 

Without wasting any more time, John made his way to the room next door. He turned on his flashlight upon entering and was greeted by a bevy of large machines, cables, and wires.

 

 _Okay. Okay. Where’s the generator?_ John wondered as he briskly walked around the room to survey it. He stopped almost suddenly once he saw it. Tucked at the corner was the back-up generator. Laughing out of relief, he approached it and was about to turn it on when his hand froze in mid-air.

 

If he were to turn it on now, the sound would no doubt alert the entire infected population of his location. They would all come hunting him at the same time, leaving just a very, very, _very_ narrow window to escape. On the other hand, if he didn’t turn the generator on, he would never be able to power up the service elevator and escape. Obviously he couldn’t stay down here forever so naturally there was only one course of action to take. Still, he should prepare for in what was going to be the biggest fight of his life.

 

John looked around the engineering room. _Let’s see… is there anything in here that I can use as a weapon?_ He flashed his light around the room and found a number of small cans and bottles of oil and gasoline.

 

_Bingo!_

 

He quickly grabbed them and stayed at the center of the room. He took off his rucksack and retrieved the other materials he found earlier in the laundry room. He now had the ingredients to make a Molotov cocktail.

 

Granted he’d never had experience of actually making one, he did know the basic ingredients and procedures since it was heavily discussed back in the force. He remembered he had to take a class on homemade weapons that any civilian could use to disrupt the peace and order of the city. He’d never thought he’d actually find those classes useful… well, until now.

 

Throwing caution out into the wind, John soon found himself adept in mixing chemicals. From all the ingredients that he managed to pick up, he was able to make four Molotov bottles. He just hoped it was enough to buy him enough time to get to the service elevator and wait for it to arrive. Once finished, he took all three bottles near the door and placed it on top of the windowsill before going back to the generator.

 

He stood there silently as he stared at the generator with dread. _This was it. It’s now or never._ John said a small prayer before turning on the generator.

 

And that’s when all hell broke loose.

 

The moment the generator powered up, the entire floor was immediately lit up with light. The generator not only powered the elevators, but the lights as well. And as soon as the lights came on, all the infected simultaneously howled in fury.

 

John jogged his way up towards the entrance of the engineering door and peeked outside. Just as he feared, every infected from the floor was charging at him. Worse was that they were all coming from different directions. One group of runners coming from his left and another at his right and the last bit, along with the two bloaters were charging at him from the center. Running on pure adrenaline, John threw two Molotov bottles to his right and left, creating a wall of flame among the snow. He saw runners literally running through it and immediately catching on fire. As they writhed in pain and tried to out the flames on their bodies, John threw another bottle at the center, this time engulfing the nearest bloater. The detective didn’t stop to watch and admire his handiwork. The more important thing was to get on the service elevator as soon as possible. Unholstering his pistol with one hand, he grabbed his last remaining Molotov with the other and proceeded towards his escape route.

 

The flames really did wonders, reducing the number of infected that John needed to still deal with by half. In fact, it downed the bloater down in one swoop, much to the detective’s surprise. John raised his gun and shot at two runners coming at him as he pressed the elevator button, signaling the elevator to come down. As he waited, he tuned around and shot two more runners charging at him. Even though he’s managed to already dispose quite a handful of infected already, there were still a lot of them. To make matters worse, he didn’t enough bullets to kill all of them either. The only way for him to get out of this alive was not to eliminating all the infected, but rather escape. It just _really_ pissed him off the elevator was taking way too long.

 

“Come on! Hurry up!!!” John shouted as he glanced behind to get a good look at where the elevator was. It was lit on B1, which meant the elevator was now just on its way down to John’s floor. “Why are you so slow?!” he screamed in frustration as he turned around and shot a runner that was too close for comfort twice on the chest. It skidded across the ground until it came to a halt.

 

As John looked up from that, he saw the bloater coming closer and closer, swinging its heavy arms ready to pound him down. The detective threw the last Molotov at its feet, but didn’t break. It merely sunk down onto the snow as the bloater stepped on it with no trouble at all.

 

“Fuckkk!” John screamed as he shot several bullets at the bloater with his gun. Given that it still had his very thick plate of armor of a skin, the bullets merely bounced off to the side, one of which actually hitting an impending runner right on the side of its head and killing it. John shot down at the remaining runners only to hear the clicking of his gun’s empty barrel. He quickly holstered his gun as he whipped out his knife as his last resort.

 

The situation was getting bad. He was cornered and the remaining infected were really closing in on him quickly, including the bloater. One runner pounced at him, arms outstretched to pin John down. The detective managed to duck out of the way in time as he watched the runner smash his head onto the steel elevator door. No sooner had that happened, the elevator doors then opened as the cab finally arrived.

 

“FINALLY!” John shouted as he quickly got inside and pressed the button. Just as he was about to turn, something grabbed onto his leg.

 

“Whoaa!” John looked down and saw the runner that tried to pounce on him was gripping his leg, ready to bite at it. “Oh no you don’t!” John growled as he stabbed his knife on the runner’s head, causing it to loosen its grip. The detective then pushed the runner out of the elevator with his foot, leaving a thick line of blood on the floor in the process. As soon as he got the filthy creature out, he stood back and watched the elevator doors close in front of him.

 

And it didn’t come a moment too soon as green gas slowly entered the cab and burned his skin. He stumbled backwards in the elevator cab in pain and as he looked upwards, he saw the bloater’s fist fast approaching the closing doors. John’s eyes watered in pain as he watched the elevator doors finally close only to be dented by the bloater’s huge fist. With a welcome ding, the elevator soon made its ascent, leaving the bloater’s toxic green gas as well as the remaining infected down below.

 

John stood against the elevator wall silently, shaking every now and then, after effects  of the bloater’s toxic gas. The gas managed to burn through a part of his clothing. As he looked down at his arm, he saw a small portion of it covered in boils because of the toxin. Instead of feeling pain, he was just… numb.

 

The detective spent the rest of his time absentmindedly staring at the huge dent left behind the infected on the door, the silence of the ride calming him down. A minute or two later, the bell rang, making John glance upwards at the lights. The letter ‘G’ was shining yellow as the doors slowly opened. John took three small steps and stepped outside onto the ground floor. He switched grips on his knife as he strolled out of the service room.

 

It was time for revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like John, I also have an injury although mine is on the foot. And no, I did not run into any infected, I just injured myself while doing muay thai over the weekend. You know what would cheer me up? Your kudos and comments! :D


	12. Search and Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta

John carefully walked through the back hallways as he tried to get back to the main lobby. His right hand gripped his knife tightly in case danger was nearby. His mind was solely focused on rendezvousing with Bane and Oliver. The sooner he did, the sooner they could escape this hotel and all the looters prowling about. _Where are they?_ John asked himself as he slowly crept through the long service hallway with heightened caution.

 

As John rounded through a corner, he paused midstride as he almost walked on the scattered pieces of glass on the floor.  The last thing he wanted to do right now is to grab the attention of the dozen, armed psychopaths after him and Bane. With a heavy sigh, John carefully sidestepped the glass shards as he continued on towards the direction of the lobby.

 

Traversing through the hallways and offices just made John more and more depressed. Everything was turned inside out, with furniture turned upside down and dumped along the hallways. There were shattered pieces of glass, piles of papers, broken kitchen utensils, ripped books in every corner. Splotches of dried blood were _everywher_ e. Seeing all of these images made John wonder if he was ever going to get out of this nightmare.

 

The nightmare he was referring to wasn’t pertaining to just the hotel, but rather Gotham as a whole. He wondered if he would ever wake up to a day where there are no fucking runners, or clickers, or fucking bloaters. Wake up to a day wherein his boys in the orphanage don’t have to stay cooped up in a safehouse that could be attacked by looters. Wake up to a day where the military aren’t slaughtering innocent people. Wake up to a day wherein the Batman would arrive and make everything better.

 

Thinking all of these wonderful things made John hope that day would eventually come, but passing by a glass door and seeing his blood stained face made that hopeful thought disappear completely.

 

“Yeah… Who the fuck were you kidding John?” He grimly asked his reflection before quieting down as he took into account just how much of a fucking mess he looked. His face was hard and covered with splotches of blood. Sweat was pouring down on the side of his left temple, dragging along with it remnants of infected blood. His posture was slightly slumped down, possibly from a mixture of both exhaustion and despair. His eyes that were usually filled with burning determination were now lost and confused. “You are never getting out of this nightmare,” he quietly whispered at his reflection before continuing forward.

 

Halfway through the hallway, he heard some faint sounds. He took that as a warning and crouched down on the ground and stayed incredibly quiet. On top of his rapidly beating heartbeat, he managed to make out someone talking further along down the hallway. Not wanting to take any chances, John slowly crept his way up to an empty bookshelf sprawled out in the center of the hallway. Knife still in his right hand, he peeked over the bookshelf and saw two armed men standing several feet away at the end of the corridor.

 

They were two armed men. The one on the left was a tall, bald muscular man carrying a rather mean looking axe in his hand. The man on the right was shorter in stature and had a machine gun in his hand and a few grenades of some sort around his belt. John narrowed his eyes. Both men were clearly arguing about something, but given his distance from them, he couldn’t exactly decipher what it was they were talking about.

 

John crouched down behind the bookshelf and drummed his fingers on his lips in deep thought. _Okay… Now how do I dispatch these two fuckers without dying?_ His eyes scanned around his immediate vicinity to see if there’s anything in the environment he could use to get an advantage. His eyes brightened up as he settled onto a pile of bricks down the service hallway. He hummed in thought as he focused his attention on them before crawling his way back to where he came from. The detective made sure to pick up a brick along the way before turning around the corner and entered an abandoned office on his right. He crouched down a broken glass window and sheathed his knife. With a small prayer, John used the brick to break the remaining glass left on the windowsill before crouching down again.

 

“What the fuck was that?” he heard a deep voice ask down the hallway.

 

“Could it be infected?” another voice asked.  

 

_Okay. I got their attention._

 

“Don’t be stupid. We trapped all the infected in the basements,” the deep voice snapped.

 

John gritted his teeth at that revelation. _So the infected on the lower floors were all their doing? Fucking animals._

 

“Yeah, but what if they got out?”

 

“And how would that happen?” the other man replied, tone escalating in annoyance. “Just shut up and go check it out while I watch the lobby.”

 

“Why do I have to do it?”

 

“Because you got a fucking gun.”

 

“So?”

 

“That means,” the other man started in an annoyed tone, “you can kill whoever made that noise faster than I can. Now get to it!”

 

“Fine!”

 

Once the conversation finished, John’s grip on the brick tightened. He was surprised how quickly his thirst for revenge was escalating. While crouched down, he couldn’t help but shake his right leg in anticipation. The notion of these men deliberately trapping the infected at the basements and concocting an elaborate scheme of trapping unsuspecting people to their doom sickened him to the core. He needed to let them pay.

 

One way or the other.

 

The sound of footsteps coming into contact with broken shards of glass caught John’s attention as he suddenly sprung into action. In one smooth motion, the detective jumped out of his hiding spot and drove the brick onto the man’s head, causing the brick to shatter as it connected with the man’s head. John’s surprise attack knocked the man out in an instant. The man crumpled down on the floor without once uttering a sound. Sure enough that he was down and out for the count, John swiftly made a move to collect the man’s weapons. As he put some of the grenades in his backpack’s pockets, he heard the other looter shout out.

 

“Hey shithead! You find anything?”

 

John simply shook his head. “And you’re next,” he whispered as he grabbed the machine gun off the floor and stalked off towards the other man.

 

As soon as he turned at the corner and caught sight of the burly man, John quickly raised his gun. The bald man was carrying a walkie-talkie in his left hand when he spotted the detective stomping towards him. Before he could do anything, John shot his leg. He fell down, screaming all the way, causing the walkie-talkie to fly away from him in the process. Once down on the floor, he turned around and tried to crawl away. Blood was oozing steadily out from his left leg, coating the floor with it. He didn’t get too far when he soon found the barrel of a gun aimed at his face. He looked up beyond the gun and saw John glaring at him and holding up his walkie-talkie.

 

“Ask them where my companions are,” John ordered as he shoved the walkie-talkie at the man’s face.

 

The man exchanged looks between the detective and the device before smiling evilly, showcasing his rotten yellow teeth in the process. “Fuck you.”

 

John retracted the walkie-talkie a few inches and narrowed his eyes. Without any warning, he used his right boot to stomp down on the man’s bleeding leg. The man howled in pain as he gripped his leg and tried to wrestle out of John’s grasp. That reaction only caused John to press harder, making blood ooze out from the man’s wound at an alarming rate. “You fucking ask your army where they are or I am going to _kill y_ ou.”

 

Tears of pain filled the man’s eyes before crying out and agreeing to John’s demand. He let John hold the walkie-talkie in front of him once again and talked to his comrades over the phone, asking them where they are. Amidst a crackle of static and what sounded like gunfire, the person on the other end told them they were at the pool deck and had Bane pretty much surrounded.

 

The moment John heard their location, he immediately threw the walkie-talkie across the room and glanced briefly at the man bleeding under him.

 

“Now tell me… how do you fuckers manage to get the infected inside the elevator and up here?”

 

“I don’t know!”

 

John simply glared at the man’s incorrect response before he applied more pressure onto the looter’s bleeding leg, causing the entire lobby to echo his delirious screaming.

 

“Don’t make me ask again,” John threatened in a very low voice.

 

“I promise I don’t know!” the guy spat. “All I know is some mechanical guy hotwired the elevators to operate whenever someone trips the wire at the entrance!” he cried, his hands shaking in fright and agony.

 

“Is it armed now?”

 

“Ye.. yes!” the man shouted.

 

The detective looked at the man before lifting his leg off the bleeding leg. The looter cried from the release of pain as he cradled his leg in his hands. He looked up at John and pleaded, “I told you everything! You said you won’t kill me.”

 

“I’m not,” John said with a shake of his head. After staring down at the man, cold and furious, John rammed the man’s face with the back of his gun causing the man to fall down onto the floor. The impact was so strong that the detective managed to knock out the man’s rotten teeth out from his mouth.

 

Leaving the unconscious man, John then marched up to the main entrance and activated the trip wire. Iron grilles soon lowered onto the floor and behind him, John could hear the sound of the elevator starting up. He turned around and saw the elevator lights flickering from floor to floor. His attention went back to the bleeding man at the end of the hallway. “I’m not going to kill you, but the infected will,” he whispered before proceeding upstairs to the mezzanine floor.

 

Now, John didn’t only need to rescue Bane and Oliver and battle the rest of the looter army, he also needed to find a way out of the hotel without going down to the lobby. As the detective marched to the upper floors, his resolve steeled. Even though they were hilariously outgunned and outnumbered, he’s going to reunite with Bane. “I am not dying today,” he told himself over and over again en route to the pool deck.

 

Even with the threat of infected entering the lobby of the hotel present, John didn’t charge up the stairs. Instead, he took his time to be as quiet and inconspicuous he could be. He would stop at every floor and survey his surroundings, making sure there weren’t any drifting looters prowling in the hallways. The only way to get out of this is to be smart and rushing upstairs in blazing glory would kill him in an instant.

 

And Bane would not approve.

 

By the time he reached the fifth floor, he heard bullets being fired above him.

 

A lot of bullets.

 

John thought. _This is it. This is where everything is going down. This is where their final standoff is going to be._

 

John carefully went up the stairs onto the next floor, the sound of raining bullets getting louder and louder with each step. Nearer to the top, he could make out voices – angry, yelling voices on top of the sound of guns going off. He’s been in a few shootouts back in his time in the force and he’s still not used to the feeling. John kept himself hidden inside the stairway as soon as his foot touched the sixth floor. With his back against the wall, he slowly poked his head out, just enough for him to catch a peek on the amount of chaos he was about to enter.

 

Huddled behind two long and large rows of heavy furniture were a dozen or so looters. There were a few dead bodies sprawled out in various places, their blood mixing in with the faded and dirty carpet. Those who were alive were ducking in and out of their cover shooting at something (John could only guess it was probably Bane) somewhere across the empty swimming pool. All of the men, John noticed, were frazzled as their shooting was more erratic and desperate rather than precise and deadly, which was a good thing in John’s book. The lack of leadership among the group was also noticeable as everyone was simply barking orders at each other with no one actually listening.

 

“Shit! I’ve been hit!” one of the looters, a man with Middle Eastern looks shouted as he dropped his rifle and gripped his left shoulder. He turned around and slid down the large china cabinet he was hiding from to the ground. “Shit. That hurts!”

 

A bearded man, covered in facial tattoos momentarily stopped shooting and faced his injured man. “Hey! You oka-” That was until a bullet penetrated his forehead.

 

 _Holy fuck!_ John screamed internally as he watched the man crumple down to the ground. His mouth hung open in shock as he looked up across the pool and saw Bane reloading another bullet into his rifle. The large man was still a sizeable distance away, but John could definitely make out the blood on the side of Bane’s face. “Fuck.”

 

Bane was hurt. Bad.

 

And that was when John decided it was time to end things.

 

The detective stepped back inside the stairway and grabbed the grenades from his backpack’s pockets. Without waiting, he took out the safety, went out of cover, and threw the grenades at the looters. To his advantage, none of the looters noticed the grenade because they were too busy shooting at Bane so when it finally exploded, none of them knew what hit them. John had his ears covered when the explosion came, rocking the floor quite a bit. As soon as the dust settled, John peeked into the hallway and saw that none of the looters survived that blast. He stepped out from the stairway and walked off towards the pool deck.

 

“John?” Bane asked, head popping up from the wall he was hiding behind.

 

He was about to respond to the mercenary’s question when he heard some commotion from behind the wall. Bane looked down from behind the wall and said, “It’s John.” A few seconds later, Oliver’s head popped from the side of the wall. The moment he saw John, his eyes went huge and teary before running up to the detective.

 

“You’re alive!!” Oliver shouted as he hugged John at his midsection. The detective got so startled by the gesture that he almost lost balance. Thankfully, he managed to recover in time. He bent down to center his gravity and hugged Oliver back. “I thought you were dead!!!” Oliver muffled, face buried in John’s jacket.

 

“I know. I know. I’m sorry,” John replied with a small laugh as he patted the young boy who was now, legitimately, crying. Both of them stayed in that position, with Oliver clinging onto John for dear life while the detective tried his best to calm the little boy down. The detective couldn’t help but shake his head when he realized Oliver wasn’t going to stop crying soon.

 

“Are you hurt?” John asked as he broke off the embrace to get a good look at Oliver.

 

Oliver replied by furiously shaking his head. “No. Bane looked after me,” he cried before hugging John tightly once again.

 

“You’re okay,” Bane said quietly as he stood a few inches away from the detective.

 

John looked up at Bane and was about to respond when the other man’s facial appearance rendered him speechless. The man had a wound on the side of his head and it was bleeding down to his jaw. From his close proximity to Bane, John could see this wound was cut deep, maybe from a wayward axe or machete. Not only that, the man’s facemask was slightly lopsided. “And you’re hurt,” John replied back, stating the obvious.

 

Bane simply shrugged at John’s response. The detective merely frowned at Bane’s total lack of concern over his injuries. Bane then walked ahead of John and Oliver. “We should leave this place immediately.”

 

John gently tapped Oliver, signaling the little boy to let go. He watched Oliver wipe the tears off his face as he sniffled. He gave the Ollie a quick smile and ruffled his hair a bit before turning to Bane. “Uhh… Bane, we can’t go downstairs.”

 

That made the mercenary stop and turn around. He gave John a quizzical look. “And why is that?”

 

“Uhhh… I may have unleashed the infected into the lobby,” John replied.

 

Bane simply stared at John before shaking his head in amusement. “Okay then. Then we find another way out,” he replied before heading off to the side of the pool deck.

 

Before John react any further, snow started falling down again. The detective looked up at the sky and marveled at how everything became peaceful again. It was strange how everything could suddenly change in an instant. One minute you’re battling an army of men, the next you’re reveling in a calming silence.

 

When John looked down, he saw that Oliver too, was transfixed by the falling snow. His heart skipped a beat at the joy painted on the little boy’s face. This was the emotion he wished everyone could have. He wanted Gotham to be rid of the perpetual fear the infected had over every citizen’s head. He wanted the kids to start smiling and laughing again. He just wanted everything to be normal again.

 

“John, are you okay?” Oliver asked.

 

That snapped John out of his little daydreaming session. He stared back at Oliver who had a worried look on his face.

 

“Yeah, I’m okay Ollie. Just spaced out for a moment there,” John replied before ruffling the little boy’s hair.

 

“John!” Bane shouted behind him. “Help me out with this.”

 

The detective turned around and saw Bane holding out a very long narrow wooden plank. What on earth?

 

“Uhh… Bane,” John started as he slowly stood up and approached the other man. “What is this for?” he asked he looked at the wooden plank with curiosity.

 

Bane didn’t even bother to explain. “Just help me prop this over that ledge,” he ordered as he jerked his head towards the far left side of the pool deck.

 

John followed the direction to where Bane was basically pointing out and he swore he had a little panic attack. Bane was referring to crossing to another nearby building’s garden with the plank. “We’re going to cross that gap with this thing?” he asked incredulously.

 

“Yes. It shouldn’t be that hard,” Bane said matter-of-factly.

 

It wasn’t a bad idea per se, but the fact that they were probably six stories above the street was a rather large, daunting detail. If anyone lost his footing, he would probably fall down to his death. But John was tired and he had no more energy to argue at this point. With a simple, but telling sigh, John grabbed the other end of the plank and helped Bane carry it to the ledge. Once there, he and Oliver stepped back and watched as Bane carefully propped it across gap.

 

“There, Oliver you go first,” Bane said as he clapped his hands free from wooden splinters.

 

“Hold it!” John ordered. “I’ll go first,” he said as he prevented Oliver from taking a step forward. The last thing he wants is for Oliver to fall down because this wooden plank wasn’t stable or sturdy enough for any of them to walk on.

 

“Be my guest,” Bane said, amused at John’s courage. He even bowed and swept his hand, gesturing John to continue onwards.

 

“Oh har har. Very funny,” John replied as he shot a glare at Bane. He swore he heard the mercenary chuckle behind his mask while he carefully stepped on the wooden plank.

 

_Oh god. Don’t let me fall please._

 

John had his arms outstretched to his sides for balance as he slowly made his way across the wooden plank. He kept his gaze strictly forward to the other side of the building because he was sure that if he glanced down, his knees would buckle and he’d panic and if that happened, there’s a high chance of him falling down to his doom. Even though the size of the gap wasn’t as wide in reality, for John it felt quite the opposite. So the moment he actually made it across, he couldn’t help but breathe one huge sigh of relief. He turned around and gave both men a thumbs up sign. “Okay, Ollie, it’s your turn. Just take your time and don’t look down,” John shouted across to the little boy.

 

Oliver looked horrified as slowly made his way up to the wooden plank. Bane carried him and placed him on top of the plank and whispered something in his ear. Whatever the mercenary whispered to the little boy must have worked because the horror on the little boy’s face completely disappeared. Oliver then slowly made his way across the platform and into John’s waiting arms in no time at all.

 

As soon as he let go of the embrace, John then looked at Bane. He feared that the narrow wooden plank wouldn’t be able to sustain the weight of the very large man. John kept his focus on the entirely at the wooden plank in case it breaks, but was momentously surprised and relieved that wasn’t the case. Bane seemed to know how to carefully place his footing and was soon already halfway across the gap, faster than John had anticipated.

 

Sensing that Bane wasn’t going to have any problems, John turned around to find the exit. The building they were one looked like a mid-rise apartment building. They were standing on the garden deck where all the plant boxes were apparently covered in snow. The glasses on the several windows were all gone and were instead covered with boards of wood. The doors on this deck were covered in that strange contraption from the residential building they found Oliver in. He was about to head further on the back when Oliver screamed his name.

 

“Oliver?” he asked, as he turned his head. He found the other boy pointing at something across at the hotel.

 

“What? What is it?” John asked as he turned around and followed the direction of the boy’s finger. What he saw made his heart still. “Shit.”

 

Across the wooden board and back onto the pool deck, the man with the fucking RPG was standing at the center of the deck. He had his weapon ready and aimed directly at them.

 

_Where the fuck did he come from?!_

 

“Shit! Bane!!!” John shouted as he pointed at the looter.

 

With blood streaming down the side of his head, Bane turned around to see what the fuss was about. His eyes widened in surprise.

 

“Say goodbye boysss,” the man laughed maniacally and pressed the trigger.

 

John didn’t know how exactly it happened, but the next thing he knew was that he and Oliver were in Bane’s arms and the mercenary was running inside the building. “Bane… what the- FUCKKK!!!” John screamed as a massive explosion rang through the floor, hurling all of them off the side of the roof.

 

He expected himself to be flailing around mid-air, but John opened his eyes and saw Oliver closing his eyes beside him. Bane somehow still managed to hold onto both of them and had his big, sturdy arms engulfing both of them. John looked up at Bane’s face and couldn’t help but stare into Bane’s eyes, trying to look for an explanation. The mercenary simply looked back at John with an amused face and if John didn’t know any better, he was smiling.  There was a soothing, calming effect in the mercenary’s eyes, something that really shook John to the core. He never expected Bane to protect them at the expense of his own body. He wanted to ask why, but was interrupted when they collided with a roof canopy.

 

John heard the sickening thud of Bane’s back connecting with the roof. John himself felt the pain, but only imagined how much it would hurt more for Bane considering he didn’t have anything to shield his back. In fact, the impact was so strong that it had Bane loosening his hold on both boys causing all three of them to crash down on the street at different directions. The detective soon found himself connecting with the snowy pavement and blacking out.

 

 

-

 

 

“Wake up! Please.. please wake up!”

 

John’s eyes slowly fluttered open. As he slowly came to, he realized that half of his face was buried in snow. Darting his eyes upward, he saw a blurry picture of one huge eye staring back at him. _Wait… Why is an eye talking to me?_

 

“John! You’re alive!” a voice called out to him as he felt arms shaking him in attempts to wake him up.

 

As John tilted his head, he saw that the huge eye was connected to the face of a young boy. “O.. Ollie? That you?” He forgot the kid wore a Despicable Me sweatshirt.

 

“You need to get up John!” Oliver panicked. “Bane isn’t moving. He’s not breathing either!”

 

“What?” John asked, causing him to completely open his eyes. That completely got his attention. The detective then tried to move, but somehow he had no energy to lift himself off the snowy street. That or that his body was injured from the fall that he managed to break his spine and totally could not control his lower body anymore.

 

Oliver nodded before shuffling around and pointing something at a distance. John followed the direction of where the little boy was pointing at and over several feet away was Bane’s body lying down on the floor. The mercenary’s face wasn’t facing him, so John couldn’t assess just how bad Bane’s injuries are, but judging from the small patches of blood surrounding the man, John was dreading the worst.

 

“John! You need to get up!” Oliver said, this time borderline hysterical.

 

The detective was about to answer back when another wave of nausea suddenly rushed inside his head, causing him to feel dizzy.

 

“John?” Oliver asked when he didn’t reply.

 

“Ollie… I.. I can’t… Something is…” John stammered off, head absolutely out of it already. He looked up at Oliver and tried to focus when something in the distance caught his eye. Even though his vision was blurry, he could make out a figure standing a few feet away from them. He squinted his eyes, hoping he could get a better view.

 

_Is it?_

_No, wait. It is!_

 

It was a woman. There was a woman dressed in some sort of white Eskimo suit standing a few feet away from them. She was carrying a basket and had a bewildered and shocked expression aimed directly at them.

 

John raised his hand as he tried to reach out to her. He wasn’t sure if she was friend or foe, but at their current state, if he didn’t ask for help, they would die either way. His hands were outstretched in the frigid air, shaking uncontrollably. John then tried his best to lift himself off the street. He managed to get himself just a few inches off the pavement before groaning out a sad and desperate, “Please… help us,” before succumbing into darkness again.

 

 

~

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry took so long.


End file.
